HEADLOIG  HALL 


AND 


IIGHTMARE    ABBEY 


NEW    EDITION,    COMPLETE    IN    ONE    VOLUME. 


NEW  YORK: 

GEORGE   P.   PUTNAM,    155    BROADWAY. 

1850. 


9S5 
h 


V 


^ 


PUBLISHER'S  ADVERTISEMENT. 


The  Edinlurgh  Review  of  January,  1839,  contains  a  long  and 
•profound  article  on  the  works  and  character  of  the  author  of 
"  Headlong  Hall,''\from  which  the  following  full  length  is  taken. 

"  A  wandering  and  contemplative  turn  of  mind ;  a  patient 
conviction  of  the  vanity  of  all  human  conclusions ;  an  impa- 
tient sense  of  the  absurdity  of  all  human  pretensions,  quick- 
ened by  an  habitual  suspicion  of  their  insincerity ;  an  eye  and 
a  heart  open  enough  to  impressions  and  opinions  of  all  kinds, 
so  that  vanity  be  the  end  of  all ;  a  perception  of  the  strange- 
ness and  mystery  which  involves  our  life, — keen  enough  to 
enliven  the  curiosity,  but  not  to  disturb  or  depress  the  spiiit ; 
with  faith  in  some  possible  but  unattainable  solution  just  suffi- 
cient to  make  him  watch  with  interest  the  abortive  endeavours 
of  more  sanguine  men,  but  not  to  engage  him  in  the  pursuit 
himself;  a  questioning,  not  a  denying  spirit, — but  questioning 
without  waiting  for  an  answer ;  an  understanding  very  quick 
and  bright, — not  narrow  in  its  range,  though  wanting  in  the 
depth  which  only  deeper  purposes  can  impart ;  a  fancy  of  sin- 
gular play  and  delicacy ;  a  light  spmpathy  with  the  common 
hopes  and  fears,  joys  and  sorrows  of  mankind,  which  gives 
him  an  interest  in  their  occupations,  just  enough  for  the  pur- 
poses of  observation  and  intelligent  amusement ;  a  poetical 
faculty,  not  of  a  very  high  order,  but  quite  capable  of  har- 
monizing the  scattered  notes  of  fancy  and  observation,  and 
reproducing  them  in  a  grateful  whole ;  such,  if  we  have  read 

96t7ri3 


VI  f  UBLISHER  S    ADVERTISEMENT. 

him  rightly,  are  the  dispositions  and  faculties  \vith  which  he 
has  been  turned  forth  into  this  bustling  world  of  speculation, 
enterprise,  imposture,  and  credulity,  with  its  multiplying 
spawn  of  cant,  quackery,  and  pretension ; — such  the  original 
constitution  which  seems  to  point  out  as  his  natural  and  ge- 
nial vocation  the  hue  and  cry  after  folly  in  its  giave  disguises ; 
the  philosophy  of  irreverence  and  incredulity ;  the  hght  and 
bloodless  warfare,  between  jest  and  earnest,  agamst  all  new 
doctrines,  accepted  or  proclaimed  for  acceptance, — clamorously 
hailed  by  the  many,  or  maintained  in  defiant  complacency  by 
the  self-constituted  fit  and  few." 

The  satirical  force  and  interest  of  such  a  book,  reflecting 
every  shade  and  variety  of  opinion  of  the  nineteenth  cen- 
tury, will  be  felt  in  a  country  where  every  ism  is  fully  de- 
veloped, where  the  old  Latin  proverb  may  be  Uterally  appUed, 
"  So  many  men,  so  many  opinions."  There  is  scarcely  a  topic 
upon  which  men  have  thought  and  written  in  this  much 
vexed  age  which  is  not  here  embodied  and  set  forth  ;  every 
one  has  his  hobby,  and  rides  it  at  full  tilt,  while  the  author 
stands  by,  hke  the  man  conducting  the  whirligig  at  the  fair, 
setting  all  in  motion,  apparently  indifferent  to  either. 


HEADLONG    HALL 


[First  published  in  1816 


All  philosophers,  who  rind 
Some  favourite  system  to  theu*  mind, 
In  every  point  to  make  it  fit, 
Will  force  all  nature  to  submit. 


CONTENTS 


('hap.       I.  The  Mail    . 

II.  The  Squire.    The  Breakfast 

III.  The  Arrivals     . 

IV.  The  Grounds  . 
V.  The  Dinner 

VI.  The  Evening  . 

VII.  The  Walk  . 

VIII.  The  Tower    . 

IX.  The  Sexton 

X.  The  Skull 

XI.  The  Anniversary 

XII.  The  Lecture  . 

XIII.  The  Ball    . 

XIV.  The  Proposals 
XV.  The  Conclusion 


Page 

.  1 

6 

.  11 

15 
.  20 

32 
.  38 

46 
.  51 

56 
.  60 

64 
.  68 

79 
.  86 


HEADLONG    HALL 


CHAPTER  I. 


THE    MAIL. 


The  ambiguous  light  of  a  December  morning,  peeping  through 
the  windows  of  the  Holyhead  mail,  dispelled  the  soft  visions  of 
the  four  insides,  who  had  slept,  or  seemed  to  sleep,  through  the 
first  seventy  miles  of  the  road,  with  as  much  comfort  as  may  be 
supposed  consistent  with  the  jolting  of  the  vehicle,  and  an  occa- 
sional admonition  to  remember  the  coacJunan,  thundered  through 
the  open  door,  accompanied  by  the  gentle  breath  of  Boreas,  into 
the  ears  of  the  drowsy  traveller. 

A  lively  remark,  that  the  day  was  none  of  the  finest,  having 
elicited  a  repartee  of  quite  the  contrary,  the  various  knotty  points 
of  meteorology,  which  usually  form  the  exordium  of  an  English 
conversation,  were  successively  discussed  and  exhausted  ;  and, 
the  ice  being  thus  broken,  the  colloquy  rambled  to  other  topics, 
in  the  course  of  which  it  appeared,  to  the  surprise  of  every  one, 
that  all  four,  though  perfect  strangers  to  each  other,  were  actu- 
ally bound  to  the  same  point,  namely,  Headlong  Hall,  the  seat  of 
the  ancient  and  honourable  family  of  the  Headlongs,  of  the  vale 
of  Llanberris,  in  Caernarvonshire.  This  name  may  appear  at 
first  sight  not  to  be  truly  Cambrian,  like  those  of  the  Rices,  and 
Prices,  and  Morgans,  and  Owens,  and  Williamses,  and  Evanses, 
and  Parrys,  and  Joneses  ;  but,  nevertheless,  the  Headlongs  claim 
to  be  not  less  genuine  derivatives  from  the  antique  branch  of  Cad- 
wallader  than  any  of  the  last  named   multiramified   families, 

2 


HPAPLONG  HALL.  [chap,  i 

They  claim,  indeed*  by  one  account,  superior  antiquity  to  all  of 
them,  and  even  to  Cadwallader  himself ;  a  tradition  having  been 
handed  down  in  Headlong  Hall  for  some  f^e^v  thousand  years,  that 
the  founder  of  the  family  was  preserved  in  the  deluge  on  the  sum- 
mit of  Snowdon,  and  took  the  name  of  Rhaiader,  which  signifies 
a  waterfall,  in  consequence  of  his  having  accompanied  the  water 
in  its  descent  or  diminution,  till  he  found  himself  comfortably 
seated  on  the  rocks  of  Llanberris.  But,  in  later  days,  when  com- 
mercial bagsmen  began  to  scour  the  country,  the  ambiguity  of 
the  sound  induced  his  descendants  to  drop  the  suspicious  denomi- 
nation of  Riders,  and  translate  the  word  into  English  ;  when,  not 
being  well  pleased  with  the  sound  of  the  thing,  they  substituted 
that  of  the  quality,  and  accordingly  adopted  the  name  Headlong, 
die  appropriate  epithet  of  waterfall. 

I  cannot  tell  how  the  truth  may  be  : 
I  say  the  tale  as  't  was  said  to  me. 

The  present  representative  of  this  ancient  and  dignified  house, 
Harry  Headlong,  Esquire,  v.'as,  like  all  other  Welsh  squires,  fond 
of  shooting,  hunting,  racing,  drinking,  and  other  such  innocent 
amusements,  nci^nvos  6*  aWov  npos,  as  Menander  expresses  it.  But, 
unlike  other  Welsh  squires,  he  had  actually  suffered  certain 
phenomena,  called  books,  to  find  their  way  into  his  house  ;  and, 
by  dint  of  lounging  over  them  after  dinner,  on  those  occasions 
when  he  was  compelled  to  take  his  bottle  alone,  he  became  seized 
with  a  violent  passion  to  be  thought  a  philosopher,  and  a  man  of 
taste  ;  and  accordingly  set  off  on  an  expedition  to  Oxford,  to  in- 
quire for  other  varieties  of  the  same  genera,  namely,  men  of  taste 
and  philosophers  ;  but,  being  assured  by  a  learned  professor  that 
there  were  no  such  things  in  the  University,  he  proceeded  to  Lon- 
don, where,  after  beating  up  in  several  booksellers'  shops,  thea- 
tres, exhibition-rooms,  and  other  resorts  of  literature  and  taste,  he 
formed  as  extensive  an  acquaintance  with  philosophers  and  dilet- 
tanti as  his  utmost  ambition  could  desire ;  and  it  now  became  his 
chief  wish  to  have  them  all  together  in  Headlong  Hall,  arguing, 
over  his  old  Port  and  Burgundy,  the  various  knotty  points  which 
had  puzzled  his  pericranium.  He  had,  therefore,  sent  them  invi- 
tations in  due  form  to  pass  their  Christmas  at  Headlong  Hall ; 
which  invitations  the  extensive  fame  of  his  kitchen  fire  had  in- 


CHAP,  i]  THE  MAIL. 


duced  the  greater  part  of  them  to  accept ;  and  four  of  the  chosen 
guests  had,  from  different  parts  of  the  metropolis,  ensconced  them- 
selves in  the  four  corners  of  the  Holyhead  mail. 

These  four  persons  were,  Mr.  Foster,*  the  perfectibilian  ;  Mr. 
Escot,-|-  the  deteriorationist ;  Mr.  Jenkison, J  the  statu-quo-ite ; 
and  the  Reverend  Doctor  Gaster,§  who,  though  of  course  neither 
a  philosopher  nor  a  man  of  taste,  had  so  won  on  the  Squire's 
fancy,  by  a  learned  dissertation  on  the  art  of  stuffing  a  turkey, 
that  he  concluded  no  Christmas  party  would  be  complete  without 
him. 

The  conversation  among  these  illuminati  soon  became  ani- 
mated ;  and  Mr.  Foster,  who,  ^^e  must  observe,  was  a  thin  gen- 
tleman, about  thirty  years  of  age,  with  an  aquiline  nose,  black 
eyes,  white  teeth,  and  black  hair — took  occasion  to  panegyrize 
the  vehicle  in  which  they  were  then  travelling,  and  observed 
what  remarkable  improvements  had  been  made  in  the  means  of 
facilitating  intercourse  between  distant  parts  of  the  kingdom  :  he 
held  forth  with  great  energy  on  the  subject  of  roads  and  railways, 
canals  and  tunnels,  manufactures  and  machinery  :  "  In  short," 
said  he,  "  every  thing  we  look  on  attests  the  progress  of  mankind 
in  all  the  arts  of  life,  and  demonstrates  their  gradual  advance- 
ment towards  a  state  of  unlimited  perfection." 

Mr.  Escot,  who  was  somewhat  younger  than  Mr.  Foster,  but 
rather  more  pale  and  saturnine  in  his  aspect,  here  took  up  the 
thread  of  the  discourse,  observing,  that  the  proposition  just  ad- 

*  Foster,  quasi  ^coo-Trjp, — from  faos  and  rripcM,  lucem  servo,  conservo,  ob- 
servo,  custodio, — one  who  watches  over  and  guards  the  light ;  a  sense  in 
which  the  word  is  often  used  amongst  us,  when  we  speak  of  fostering  a  flame. 

t  Escot,  quasi  es  okotov,  in  tenebras,  scihcet,  intuens  ;  one  who  is  always 
looking  into  the  dark  side  of  the  question. 

%  Jenkison:  This  name  may  be  derived  from  aiev  e^  ktcjv,  semper  ex  cequali- 
hus — scilicet,  mensuris,  omnia  metiens :  one  who  from  equal  meeisures  divides 
and  distributes  all  things :  one  who  from  equal  measures  can  always  produce 
arguments  on  both  sides  of  a  question,  with  so  much  nicety  and  exactness,  as 
to  keep  the  said  question  eternally  pending,  and  the  balance  of  the  controversy 
pei-petually  in  statu  quo.  By  an  aphaeresis  of  the  a,  an  elision  of  the  second  e, 
and  an  easy  and  natural  mutation  of  ^  into  k,  the  derivation  of  this  name  pro- 
ceeds according  to  the  strictest  principles  of  etymology :  auv  t^  iguv — Itv  e^ 
iff(i>v — liv  EK  iffuiv — Lj/  V  leojp — ItvKKTOJv — leukisou — Jenkison. 

§  Gaster :  scilicet  TaoTrip — Venter, — et  praeterea  nihil. 


HEADLONG  HALL. 


vanced  seemed  to  him  perfectly  contrary  to  the  true  state  of  the 
case:  "for,"  said  he,  "these  improvements,  as  you  call  them^ 
appear  to  me  only  so  many  links  in  the  great  chain  of  corruption, 
which  will  soon  fetter  the  whole  human  race  in  irreparable 
slavery  and  incurable  wretchedness  :  your  improvements  proceed 
in  a  simple  ratio,  while  the  factitious  wants  and  unnatural  appe- 
tites they  engender  proceed  in  a  compound  one  ;  and  thus  one 
generation  acquires  fifty  wants,  and  fifty  means  of  supplying  them 
are  invented,  which  each  in  its  turn  engenders  two  new  ones ;  so 
that  the  next  generation  has  a  hundred,  the  next  two  hundred,  the 
next  four  hundred,  till  every  human  being  becomes  such  a  help- 
less compound  of  perverted  inclinations,  that  he  is  altogether  at 
the  mercy  of  external  circumstances,  loses  all  independence  and 
singleness  of  character,  and  degenerates  so  rapidly  from  the  prim- 
itive dignity  of  his  sylvan  origin,  that  it  is  scarcely  possible  to  in- 
dulge in  any  other  expectation,  than  that  the  whole  species  must 
at  length  be  exterminated  by  its  own  infinite  imbecility  and  vile- 
ness." 

"  iTour  opinions,"  said  Mr.  Jenkison,  a  round-faced  little  gen- 
tleman of  about  forty-five,  "  seem  to  differ  toto  cobIo.  I  have 
often  debated  the  matter  in  my  own  mind,  pro  and  con,  and  have 
at  length  arrived  at  this  conclusion, — that  there  is  not  in  the  hu- 
man race  a  tendency  either  to  moral  perfectibility  or  deteriora- 
tion ;  but  that  the  quantities  of  each  are  so  exactly  balanced  by 
their  reciprocal  results,  that  the  species,  with  respect  to  the  sum 
of  good  and  evil,  knowledge  and  ignorance,  happiness  and  misery, 
remains  exactly  and  perpetually  in  statu  quo.'' 

"  Surely,"  said  Mr.  Foster,  "  you  cannot  maintain  such  a 
proposition  in  the  face  of  evidence  so  luminous.  Look  at  the  proo-. 
ress  of  all  the  arts  and  sciences, — see  chemistry,  botany,  astron- 
omy   ." 

"  Surely,"  said  Mr.  Escot,  "  experience  deposes  against  you. 
Look  at  the  rapid  growth  of  corruption,  luxury,  selfishness ." 

"  Really,  gentlemen,"  said  the  Reverend  Doctor  Gaster,  after 
clearing  the  husk  in  his  throat  with  two  or  three  hems,  "  this  is 
a  very  sceptical,  and,  I  must  say,  atheistical  conversation,  and  I 
should  have  thought,  out  of  respect  to  my  cloth ." 

Here  the  coach  stopped,  and  the  coachman,  opening  the  door,  vo- 
ciferated— "  Breakfast,  gentlemen ;''  a  sound  which  so  gladdened 


CHAP.  I.]  THE  BREAKFAST. 


the  ears  of  the  divine,  that  the  alacrity  with  which  he  sprang 
from  the  vehicle  superinduced  a  distortion  of  his  ankle,  and  he 
was  obliged  to  limp  into  the  inn  between  Mr.  Escot  and  Mr.  Jen- 
kison ;  the  former  observing,  that  he  ought  to  look  for  nothing 
but  evil,  and,  therefore,  should  not  be  surprised  at  this  little  ac- 
cident ;  the  latter  remarking,  that  the  comfort  of  a  good  break- 
fast, and  the  pain  of  a  sprained  ankle,  pretty  exactly  balanced 
each  other. 


2* 


HEADLONG  HALL.  [chap.  n. 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE    SQUIRE.— THE    BREAKFAST. 

Squire  Headlong,  in  the  mean  while,  was  quadripartite  in  his 
locality ;  that  is  to  say,  he  was  superintending  the  operations  in 
four  scenes  of  action — namely,  the  cellar,  the  library,  the  pic- 
ture-gallery, and  the  dining-room, — preparing  for  the  reception 
of  his  philosophical  and  dilettanti  visitors.  His  myrmidon  on 
this  occasion  was  a  little  red-nosed  butler,  whom  nature  seemed 
to  have  cast  in  the  genuine  mould  of  an  antique  Silenus,  and 
who  vv^addled  about  the  house  after  his  master,  wiping  his  fore- 
head and  panting  for  breath,  while  the  latter  bounced  from  room 
to  room  like  a  cracker,  and  was  indefatigable  in  his  requisitions 
for  the  proximity  of  his  vinous  Achates,  whose  advice  and  co-op- 
eration he  deemed  no  less  necessary  in  the  library  than  in  the 
cellar.  Multitudes  of  packages  had  arrived,  by  land  and  water, 
from  London,  and  Liverpool,  and  Chester,  and  Manchester,  and 
Birmingham,  and  various  other  parts  of  the  mountains :  books, 
wine,  cheese,  globes,  mathematical  instruments,  turkeys,  tele- 
scopes, hams,  tongues,  microscopes,  quadrants,  sextants,  fiddles, 
flutes,  tea,  sugar,  electrical  machines,  figs,  spices,  air-pumps, 
soda-water,  chemical  apparatus,  eggs,  French-horns,  drawing 
books,  palettes,  oils,  and  colours,  bottled  ale  and  porter,  scenery 
for  a  private  theatre,  pickles  and  fish-sauce,  patent  lamps  and 
chandeliers,  barrels  of  oysters,  sofas,  chairs,  tables,  carpets,  beds, 
looking-glasses,  pictures,  fruits  and  confections,  nuts,  oranges, 
lemons,  packages  of  salt  salmon,  and  jars  of  Portugal  grapes. 
These,  arriving  with  infinite  rapidity,  and  in  inexhaustible  suc- 
cession, had  been  deposited  at  random,  as  the  convenience  of  the 
moment  dictated, — sofas  in  the  cellar,  chandeliers  in  the  kitchen, 
hampers  of  ale  in  the  drawing-room,  and  fiddles  and  fish-sauce 
in  the  library.  The  servants,  unpacking  all  these  in  furious 
haste,  and  flying  with  them  from  place  to  place,  according  to  the 


CH.^P.  II.]  THE  BREAKFAST. 


tumultuous  directions  of  Squire  Headlong  and  the  little  fat  butler 
who  fumed  at  his  heels,  chafed,  and  crossed,  and  clashed,  and 
tumbled  over  one  another  up  stairs  and  down.  All  was  bustle, 
uproar,  and  confusion ;  yet  nothing  seemed  to  advance  :  while 
the  rage  and  impetuosity  of  the  Squire  continued  fermenting  to 
the  highest  degree  of  exasperation,  which  he  signified,  from  time 
to  time,  by  converting  some  newly  unpacked  article,  such  as  a 
book,  a  bottle,  a  ham,  or  a  fiddle,  into  a  missile  against  the  head 
of  some  unfortunate  servant  who  did  not  seem  to  move  in  a  ratio 
of  velocity  corresponding  to  the  intensity  of  his  master's  desires. 
In  this  state  of  eager  preparation  we  shall  leave  the  happy  in- 
habitants of  Headlong  Hall,  and  return  to  the  three  philosophers 
and  the  unfortunate  divine,  whom  we  left  limping  with  a  sprained 
ankle  into  the  breakfast-room  of  the  inn ;  where  his  two  sup- 
porters deposited  him  safely  in  a  large  arm-chair,  with  his  wounded 
leg  comfortably  stretched  out  on  another.  The  morning  being 
extremely  cold,  he  contrived  to  be  seated  as  near  the  fire  as  was 
consistent  with  his  other  object  of  having  a  perfect  command  of  the 
table  and  its  apparatus ;  which  consisted  not  only  of  the  ordinary 
comforts  of  tea  and  toast,  but  of  a  delicious  supply  of  new-laid 
eggs,  and  a  magnificent  round  of  beef;  against  vvhich  Mr.  Escot 
immediately  pouited  all  the  artillery  of  his  eloquence,  declaring 
the  use  of  animal  food,  conjointly  with  that  of  fire,  to  be  one  of 
the  principal  causes  of  the  present  degeneracy  of  mankind. 
"  The  natural  and  original  man,"  said  he,  "lived  in  the  woods  : 
the  roots  and  fruits  of  the  earth  supplied  his  simple  nutriment : 
he  had  fev/  desires,  and  no  diseases.  But,  when  he  began  to 
sacrifice  victims  on  the  altar  of  superstition,  to  pursue  the  goat 
and  the  deer,  and,  by  the  pernicious  invention  of  fire,  to  pervert 
their  flesh  into  food,  luxury,  disease,  and  premature  death,  were 
let  loose  upon  the  world.  Such  is  clearly  the  correct  interpreta- 
tion of  the  fable  of  Prometheus,  which  is  a  symbolical  portrai- 
ture  of  that  disastrous  epoch,  when  man  first  applied  fire  to  culi- 
nary purposes,  and  thereby  surrendered  his  liver  to  the  vulture 
of  disease.  From  that  period  the  stature  of  mankind  has  been 
in  a  state  of  gradual  diminution,  and  I  have  not  the  least  doubt 
that  it  will  continue  to  grow  small  by  degrees,  and  lamentahly  lesSj 
till  the  whole  race  will  vanish  imperceptibly  from  the  face  of  the 
earth." 


HEADLONG  HALL.  [chap.  ii. 


"  I  cannot  agree,"  said  Mr.  Foster,  "  in  the  consequences  be- 
ing so  very  disastrous.  I  admit,  that  in  some  respects  the  use  of 
animal  food  retards,  thougli  it  cannot  materially  inhibit,  the  per- 
fectibility of  the  species.  But  the  use  of  fire  was  indispensably 
necessary,  as  ^Eschylus  and  Virgil  expressly  assert,  to  give  being 
to  the  various  arts  of  life,  which,  in  their  rapid  and  interminable 
progress,  will  finally  conduct  every  individual  of  the  race  to  the 
philosophic  pinnacle  of  pure  and  perfect  felicity." 

"  In  the  controversy  concerning  animal  and  vegetable  food," 
said  Mr.  Jenkison,  "  there  is  much  to  be  said  on  both  sides ;  and, 
the  question  being  in  equipoise,  I  content  myself  with  a  mixed 
diet,  and  make  a  point  of  eating  whatever  is  placed  before  me, 
provided  it  be  good  in  its  kind." 

In  this  opinion  his  two  brother  philosophers  practically  coin- 
cided, though  they  both  ran  down  the  theory  as  highly  detrimen- 
tal to  the  best  interests  of  man. 

"  I  am  really  astonished,"  said  the  Reverend  Doctor  Gaster, 
gracefully  picking  off  the  supernal  fragments  of  an  egg  he  had 
just  cracked,  and  clearing  away  a  space  at  the  top  for  the  recep- 
tion of  a  small  piece  of  butter — "  I  am  really  astonished,  gen- 
tlemen, at  the  very  heterodox  opinions  I  have  heard  you  deliver  : 
since  nothing  can  be  more  obvious  than  that  all  animals  were 
created  solely  and  exclusively  for  the  use  of  man." 

"  Even  the  tiger  that  devours  him  ?"  said  Mr.  Escot. 

"  Certainly,"  said  Doctor  Gaster. 

"  How  do  you  prove  it  ?"  said  Mr.  Escot. 

"  It  refjuires  no  proof,"  said  Doctor  Gaster  :  "  it  is  a  point  of 
doctrine.     It  is  written,  therefore  it  is  so." 

'*  Nothing  can  be  more  logical,"  said  Mr.  Jenkison.  "  It  has 
been  said,"  continued  he,  "  that  the  ox  was  expressly  made  to  be 
eaten  by  man  :  it  may  be  said,  by  a  parity  of  reasoning,  that 
man  was  expressly  made  to  be  eaten  by  the  tiger  :  but  as  wild 
oxen  exist  where  there  are  no  men,  and  men  where  there  are  no 
tigers,  it  would  seem  that  in  these  instances  they  do  not  properly 
answer  the  ends  of  their  creation." 

"  It  is  a  mystery,"  said  Dr.  Gaster. 

"  Not  to  launch  into  the  question  of  final  causes,"  said  Mr. 
Escot,  helping  himself  at  the  same  time  to  a  slice  of  beef,  "  con- 
cerning which  I  will  candidly  acknowledge  I  am  as  profoundly 


CHAP.  II.]  THE  BREAKFAST.  9 

ignorant  as  the  most  dogmatical  theologian  possibly  can  be,  I  just 
wish  to  observe,  that  the  pure  and  peaceful  manners  which  Homer 
ascribes  to  the  Lotophagi,  and  which  at  this  day  characterise 
many  nations  (the  Hindoos,  for  example,  who  subsist  exclusively 
on  the  fruits  of  the  earth),  depose  very  strongly  in  favour  of  a 
vegetable  regimen." 

"  It  may  be  said,  on  the  contrary,"  said  Mr.  Foster,  "  that  ani- 
mal food  acts  on.  the  mind  as  manure  does  on  flowers,  forcins: 
them  into  a  degree  of  expansion  they  would  not  otherwise  have 
attained.  If  we  can  imagine  a  philosophical  auricula  falling 
into  a  train  of  theoretical  meditation  on  its  orio-inal  and  natural 
nutriment,  till  it  should  work  itself  up  into  a  profound  abomination 
of  bullock's  blood,  sugar-baker's  scum,  and  other  unnatural  in- 
gredients of  that  rich  composition  of  soil  which  had  brought  it  to 
perfection,*  and  insist  on  being  planted  in  common  earth,  it  would 
have  all  the  advantage  of  natural  theory  on  its  side  that  the  most 
strenuous  advocate  of  the  vegetable  system  could  desire  ;  but  it 
would  soon  discover  the  practical  error  of  its  retrograde  experi- 
ment by  its  lamentable  inferiority  in  strength  and  beauty  to  all 
the  auriculas  around  it.  I  am  afraid,  in  some  instances  at  least, 
this  analogy  holds  true  with  respect  to  mind.  No  one  will  make 
a  comparison,  in  point  of  mental  power,  between  the  Hindoos  and 
the  ancient  Greeks." 

"  The  anatomy  of  the  human  stomach,"  said  Mr.  Escot,  "  and 
the  formation  of  the  teeth,  clearly  place  man  in  the  class  of  fru- 
givorous  animals." 

"  Many  anatomists,"  said  Mr.  Foster,  "  are  of  a  different  opin- 
ion, and  agree  in  discerning  the  characteristics  of  the  carnivorous 
classes." 

"  I  am  no  anatomist,"  said  Mr.  Jenkison,  "  and  cannot  decide 
where  doctors  disagree  ;  in  the  mean  time,  I  conclude  that  man 
is  omnivorous,  and  on  that  conclusion  I  act." 

"  Your  conclusion  is  truly  orthodox,"  said  the  Reverend  Doc- 
tor Gaster  :  "  indeed  the  loaves  and  fishes  are  typical  of  a  mixed 
diet ;  and  the  practice  of  the  Church  in  all  ages  shows " 

"  That  it  never  loses  sight  of  the  loaves  and  fishes,"  said  Mr. 
Escot. 

*  See  Emmerton  on  the  Auricula. 


10  HEADLONG  HALL.  [chap,  ii 

"  It  never  loses  sight  of  any  point  of  sound  doctrine,"  said  the 
reverend  doctor. 

The  coachman  now  informed  them  their  time  was  elapsed ; 
nor  could  all  the  pathetic  remonstrances  of  the  reverend  divine, 
who  declared  he  had  not  half  breakfasted,  succeed  in  gaining  one 
minute  from  the  inexorable  Jehu. 

"  You  will  allow,"  said  Mr.  Foster,  as  soon  as  they  were  again 
in  motion,  "that  the  wild  man  of  the  woods  could  not  transport 
himself  over  two  hundred  miles  of  forest,  with  as  much  facility 
as  one  of  these  vehicles  transports  you  and  me  through  the  heart 
of  this  cultivated  country." 

"  I  am  certain,"  said  Mr.  Escot,  "  that  a  wild  man  can  travel 
an  immense  distance  without  fatigue  ;  but  what  is  the  advantage 
of  locomotion  ?  The  wild  man  is  happy  in  one  spot,  and  there 
he  remains  :  the  civilised  man  is  wretched  in  every  place  he  hap- 
pens to  be  in,  and  then  congratulates  himself  on  being  accommo- 
dated with  a  machine,  that  v/ill  whirl  him  to  another,  where  he 
will  be  just  as  miserable  as  ever." 

We  shall  now  leave  the  mail-coach  to  find  its  way  to  Capel 
Cerig,  the  nearest  point  of  the  Holyliead  road  to  the  dwelling  of 
Squire  Headlong. 


THE  ARRIVALS.  11 


CHAPTER  III. 


THE    ARRIVALS. 


In  the  midst  of  tliat  scone  of  confusion  thrice  confounded,  in 
which  v/e  left  the  inhabitants  of  Headlong  Hall,  arrived  the  lovely 
Caprioletta  Headlong,  the  Squire's  sister  (whom  he  had  sent  for, 
from  the  residence  of  her  maiden  aunt  at  Caernarvon,  to  do  the  hon- 
ours of  his  house),  beaming  like  light  on  chaos,  to  arrange  disorder 
and  harmonise  discord.  The  tempestuous  spirit  of  her  brother 
became  instantaneously  as  smooth  as  the  surface  of  the  lake  of 
Llanberris ;  and  the  little  fat  butler  "  plessed  Cot,  and  St.  Tafit, 
and  the  peautiful  tamsel,"  for  being  permitted  to  move  about  the 
house  in  his  natural  pace.  In  less  than  twenty-four  hours  after 
her  arrival,  every  thing  was  disposed  in  its  proper  station,  and 
the  Squire  began  to  be  all  impatience  for  the  appearance  of  his 
promised  guests. 

The  first  visitor  with  whom  he  had  the  felicity  of  shaking  hands 
was  Marmaduke  Milestone,  Esquire,  who  arrived  with  a  portfolio 
under  his  arm.     Mr.   Milestone*  was  a  picturesque   landscape 

*  Mr.  Knight,  in  a  note  to  the  Landscape,  having  taken  the  liberty  of 
laughing  at  a  notable  device  of  a  celebrated  improver,  for  giving  greatness  of 
character  to  a  place,  and  showing  an  undivided  extent  of  property,  by  placing 
the  family  arms  on  the  neighbouring  milestones,  the  improver  retorted  on  him 
with  a  charge  of  misquotation,  misrepresentation,  and  malice  prepense.  Mr. 
Knight,  in  the  preface  to  the  second  edition  of  his  poem,  quotes  the  improvers 
words : — "  The  market-house,  or  other  public  edifice,  or  even  a  iiiere  stone 
with  distances,  may  bear  the  arms  of  the  family :"  and  adds : — "  By  a  mere 
stone  with  distances  the  author  of  the  Landscape  certainly  thought  he  meant 
a  milestone ;  but,  if  he  did  not,  any  other  interpretation  which  he  may  think 
more  advantageous  to  himself  shall  readily  be  adopted,  as  it  will  equally  an- 
swer the  purpose  of  the  quotation."  The  improver,  however,  did  not  conde- 
scend to  explain  what  he  really  meant  by  a  mere  stone  with  distances,  though 
he  strenuously  maintained  that  he  did  not  mean  a  milestone.  His  idea,  there- 
fore, stands  on  record,  invested  with  all  the  sublimity  that  obscurity  can 
confer. 


12  HEADLONG  HALL.  [chap.   hi. 

gardener  of  the  first  celebrity,  who  was  not  without  hopes  of  per- 
suading Squire  Headlong  to  put  his  romantic  pleasure-grounds 
under  a  process  of  improvement,  promising  himself  a  signal  tri- 
umph for  his  incomparable  art  in  the  difficult  and,  therefore,  glo- 
rious achievement  of  polishing  and  trimming  the  rocks  of  Llan- 
bcrris. 

Next  arrived  a  post-chaise  from  the  inn  at  Capel  Cerig,  con- 
taining the  Reverend  Doctor  Gaster.  It  appeared,  that,  when  the 
mail-coach  deposited  its  valuable  cargo,  early  on  the  second 
morning,  at  the  inn  at  Capel  Cerig,  there  was  onlj^  one  post- 
chaise  to  be  had ;  it  was  therefore  determined  that  the  reverend 
Doctor  and  the  luggage  should  proceed  in  the  chaise,  and  that 
the  three  philosophers  should  walk.  When  the  reverend  gentle- 
man first  seated  himself  in  the  chaise,  the  windows  were  down 
all  round  ;  but  he  allowed  it  to  drive  off  under  the  idea  that  he 
could  easily  pull  them  up.  This  task,  however,  he  had  consider- 
able difficulty  in  accomplishing,  and  when  he  had  succeeded,  it 
availed  him  little  ;  for  the  frames  and  glasses  had  long  since  dis- 
continued their  ancient  familiarity.  He  had,  however,  no  alter- 
native but  to  proceed,  and  to  comfort  himself,  as  he  went,  with 
some  choice  quotations  from  the  book  of  Job.  The  road  led  along 
the  edges  of  tremendous  chasms,  with  torrents  dashing  in  the  bot- 
tom ;  so  that,  if  his  teeth  had  not  chattered  with  cold,  they  would 
have  done  so  with  fear.  The  Squire  shook  him  heartily  by  the 
hand,  and  congratulated  him  on  his  safe  arrival  at  Headlong  Hall. 
The  Doctor  returned  the  squeeze,  and  assured  him  that  the  con- 
gratulation was  by  no  means  misapplied. 

Next  came  the  three  philosophers,  highly  delighted  with  their 
walk,  and  full  of  rapturous  exclamations  on  the  sublime  beauties 
of  the  scenery. 

The  Doctor  shrugged  up  his  shoulders,  and  confessed  he  pre- 
ferred the  scenery  of  Putney  and  Kew,  where  a  man  could  go 
comfortably  to  sleep  in  his  chaise,  without  being  in  momentary 
terror  of  being  hurled  headlong  down  a  precipice. 

Mr.  Milestone  observed,  that  there  were  great  capabilities  in 
the  scenery,  but  it  wanted  shaving  and  polishing.  If  he  could 
but  have  it  under  his  care  for  a  single  twelvemonth,  he  assured 
them  no  one  would  be  able  to  know  it  again. 


CHAP.  III.]  THE  ARRIVALS.  13 

Mr.  Jenkison  thought  the  scenery  was  just  what  it  ought  to  be, 
and  required  no  alteration. 

Mr.  Foster  thought  it  could  be  improved,  but  doubted  if  that  ef- 
fect would  be  produced  by  the  system  of  Mr.  Milestone. 

Mr.  Escot  did  not  think  that  any  human  being  could  improve 
it,  but  had  no  doubt  of  its  having  changed  very  considerably  for 
the  worse,  since  the  days  when  the  now  barren  rocks  were  cov- 
ered with  the  immense  forest  of  Snowdon,  which  must  have  con- 
tained a  very  fine  race  of  wild  men,  not  less  than  ten  feet  high. 

The  next  arrival  was  that  of  Mr.  Cranium,  and  his  lovely 
daughter  Miss  Cephalis  Cranium,  who  flew  to  the  arms  of  her 
dear  friend  Caprioletta,  with  all  that  warmth  of  friendship  which 
young  ladies  usually  assume  towards  each  other  in  the  presence 
of  young  gentlemen.* 

Miss  Cephalis  blushed  like  a  carnation  at  the  sight  of  Mr.  Es- 
cot, and  Mr.  Escot  glowed  like  a  corn-poppy  at  the  sight  of  Miss 
Cephalis.  It  was  at  least  obvious  to  all  observers,  that  he  could 
imagine  the  possibility  of  one  change  for  the  better,  even  in  this 
terrestrial  theatre  of  universal  deterioration. 

Mr.  Cranium's  eyes  wandered  from  Mr.  Escot  to  his  daughter, 
and  from  his  daughter  to  Mr.  Escot ;  and  his  complexion,  in  the 
course  of  the  scrutiny,  underwent  several  variations,  from  the 
dark  red  of  the  piony  to  the  deep  blue  of  the  convolvulus. 

Mr.  Escot  had  formerly  been  the  received  lover  of  Miss  Cepha- 
lis, till  he  incurred  the  indignation  of  her  father  by  laughing  at  a 
very  profound  craniological  dissertation  which  the  old  geptleman 
delivered  ;  nor  had  Mr.  Escot  yet  discovered  the  means  of  molli- 
fying his  wrath. 

Mr.  Cranium  carried  in  his  own  hands  a  bag,  the  contents  of 
which  were  too  precious  to  be  intrusted  to  any  one  but  himself; 
and  earnestly  entreated  to  be  shown  to  the  chamber  appropriated 
for  his  reception,  that  he  might  deposit  his  treasure  in  safety. 
The  little  butler  was  accordingly  summoned  to  conduct  him  to  his 
cuUculum. 

Next  arrived  a  post-chaise,  carrying  four  insides,  whose  ex- 

*  "  II  est  constant  qu'elles  se  baisent  de  meilleur  coeur,  et  se  caressent  avec 
plus  de  grace  devant  les  hommes,  fieres  d'aiguiser  impun^ment  leur  convoitise 
par  rimage  ded  faveurs  qu'elles  savent  leur  faire  envier." — Rousseau,  Emile 
liv  5. 


14  HEADLONG  HALL.  [chap,  in 


treme  thinness  enabled  them  to  travel  thus  economically  without 
experiencing  the  slightest  inconvenience.  These  four  personages 
were,  two  very  profound  critics,  Mr.  Gall  and  Mr.  Treacle,  who 
followed  the  trade  of  reviewers,  but  occasionally  indulged  them- 
selves in  the  composition  of  bad  poetry ;  and  two  very  multitudi- 
nous versifiers,  Mr.  Nightshade  and  Mr.  Mac  Laurel,  who  fol- 
lowed the  trade  of  poetry,  but  occasionally  indulged  themselves 
in  the  composition  of  bad  criticism.  Mr.  Nightshade  and  Mr. 
Mac  Laurel  were  the  two  senior  lieutenants  of  a  very  formidable 
corps  of  critics,  of  whom  Timothy  Treacle,  Esquire,  was  captain, 
and  Geoffrey  Gall,  Esquire,  generalissimo. 

The  last  arrivals  were  Mr.  Cornelius  Chromatic,  the  most  pro- 
found and  scientific  of  all  amateurs  of  the  fiddle,  with  his  two 
blooming  daughters.  Miss  Tenorina  and  Miss  Graziosa  ;  Sir  Pat- 
rick OTrism,  a  dilettante  painter  of  high  renown,  and  his  maiden 
aunt.  Miss  Philomela  Poppyseed,  an  indefatigable  compounder  of 
novels,  written  for  the  express  purpose  of  supporting  every  species 
of  superstition  and  prejudice;  and  Mr.  Panscope,  the  chemical, 
botanical,  geological,  astronomical,  mathematical,  metaphysical, 
meteorological,  anatomical,  physiological,  galvanistical,  musical, 
pictorial,  bibliographical,  critical  philosopher,  who  had  run 
through  the  whole  circle  of  the  sciences,  and  understood  them  all 
equally  well. 

Mr.  Milestone  v/as  impatient  to  take  a  walk  round  the  grounds, 
that  he  might  examine  how  far  the  system  of  clumping  and  level- 
ling cou^ld  be  carried  advantageously  into  effect.  The  ladies  re- 
tired to  enjoy  each  other's  society  in  the  first  happy  m.oments  of 
meeting  :  the  Reverend  Doctor  Gaster  sat  by  the  library  fire,  in 
profound  meditation  over  a  volume  of  the  "  Almanach  des  Gour- 
mands .•"  Mr.  Panscope  sat  in  the  opposite  corner  with  a  volume 
of  Rees's  Cyclopsedia  :  Mr.  Cranium  was  busy  up  stairs  :  Mr. 
Chromatic  retreated  to  the  music-room,  where  he  fiddled  through 
a  book  of  solos  before  the  ringing  of  the  first  dinner-bell.  The 
remainder  of  the  party  supported  Mr.  Milestone's  proposition ; 
and,  accordingly.  Squire  Headlong  and  Mr.  Milestone  leading  the 
van,  they  commenced  their  perambulation. 


CHAP.  IV.]  THE  GROUNDS.  15 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE    GROUNDS. 

"  I  PERCEIVE,"  said  Mr.  Milestone,  after  they  had  walked  a 
few  paces,  "  these  grounds  have  never  been  touched  by  the  lin- 
ger of  taste." 

"  The  place  is  quite  a  wilderness,"  said  Squire  Headlong  : 
"  for,  during  the  latter  part  of  my  father's  life,  while  I  ^va.sJinish- 
ing  my  education,  he  troubled  himself  about  nothing  but  the  cel- 
lar, and  suffered  every  thing  else  to  go  to  rack  and  ruin.  A 
mere  wilderness,  as  you  see,  even  now  in  December ;  but  in  sum- 
mer a  complete  nursery  of  briers,  a  forest  of  thistles,  a  plantation 
of  nettles,  without  any  live  stock  but  goats,  that  have  eaten  up  all 
the  bark  of  the  trees.  Here  you  see  is  the  pedestal  of  a  statue, 
with  only  half  a  leg  and  four  toes  remaining  :  there  were  many 
here  once.  When  I  was  a  boy,  I  used  to  sit  every  day  on  the 
shoulders  of  Hercules  :  what  became  of  him  I  have  never  been 
able  to  ascertain.  Neptune  has  been  lying  these  seven  years  in 
the  dust-hole ;  Atlas  had  his  head  knocked  off  to  fit  him  for  prop- 
ping a  shed  ;  and  only  the  day  before  yesterday  we  fished  Bac- 
chus out  of  the  horse-pond." 

"  My  dear  sir,"  said  Mr.  Milestone,  "  accord  me  your  permis- 
sion to  wave  the  wand  of  enchantment  over  your  grounds.  The 
rocks  shall  be  blown  up,  the  trees  shall  be  cut  down,  the  wilder- 
ness and  all  its  goats  shall  vanish  like  mist.  Pagodas  and 
Chinese  bridges,  gravel  walks  and  shrubberies,  bowling-greens, 
canals,  and  clumps  of  larch,  shall  rise  upon  its  ruins.  One  age, 
sir,  has  brought  to  light  the  treasures  of  ancient  learning  ;  a  sec- 
ond has  penetrated  into  the  depths  of  metaphysics  ;  a  third  has 
brought  to  perfection  the  science  of  astronomy  ;  but  it  was  re- 
served for  the  exclusive  genius  of  the  present  times,  to  invent  the 
noble  art  of  picturesque  gardening,  which  has  given,  as  it  were, 
a  new  tint  to  the  complexion  of  nature,  and  a  new  outline  to  the 
physiognomy  of  the  universe  !" 


16  HEADLONG  HALL.  [chap,  iv 

"  Give  me  leave,"  said  Sir  Patrick  O'Prism,  "to  take  an  ex- 
ception to  that  same.  Your  system  of  levelling,  and  trimming, 
and  clipping,  and  docking,  and  clumping,  and  polishing,  and 
cropping,  and  shaving,  destroys  all  the  beautiful  intricacies  of 
natural  luxuriance,  and  all  the  graduated  harmonies  of  light  and 
shade,  melting  into  one  another,  as  you  see  them  on  that  rock 
over  yonder.  I  never  saw  one  of  your  improved  places,  as  you 
call  them,  and  which  are  nothing  but  big  bowling-greens,  like 
sheets  of  green  paper,  with  a  parcel  of  round  clumps  scattered 
over  them,  like  so  many  spots  of  ink,  flicked  at  random  out  of  a 
pen,*  and  a  solitary  animal  here  and  there  looking  as  if  it  were 
lost,  that  I  did  not  think  it  was  for  all  the  world  like  Hounslow 
Heath,  thinly  sprinkled  over  with  bushes  and  highwaymen." 

"  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Milestone,  "  you  will  have  the  goodness  to 
make  a  distinction  between  the  picturesque  and  the  beautiful." 

"  Will  I  ?"  said  Sir  Patrick,  "  och  !  but  I  won't.  For  what  is 
beautiful  ?  That  which  pleases  the  eye.  And  what  pleases  the 
eye  ?  Tints  variously  broken  and  blended.  Now,  tints  variously 
broken  and  blended  constitute  the  picturesque." 

"  Allow  me,"  said  Mr.  Gall.  "  I  distinguish  the  picturesque 
and  the  beautiful,  and  I  add  to  them,  in  the  laying  out  of  grounds, 
a  third  and  distinct  character,  which  I  call  unexpectedness.^' 

"  Pray,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Milestone,  "  by  what  name  do  you  dis., 
tinguish  this  character,  when  a  person  walks  round  the  grounds 
for  the  second  time  ?"f 

Mr.  Gall  bit  his  lips,  and  inwardly  vowed  to  revenge  himself 
on  Milestone,  by  cutting  up  his  next  publication. 

A  long  controversy  now  ensued  concerning  the  picturesque  and 
the  beautiful,  highly  edifying  to  Squire  Headlong. 

The  three  philosophers  stopped,  as  they  wound  round  a  pro- 
jecting point  of  rock,  to  contemplate  a  little  boat  which  was  gli- 
ding  over  the  tranquil  surface  of  the  lake  below." 

"  The  blessings  of  civilisation,"  said  Mr.  Foster,  "  extend 
themselves  to  the  meanest  individuals  of  the  community.  That 
boatman,  singing  as  he  sails  along,  is,  I  have  no  doubt,  a  very 
happy,  and,  comparatively  to  the  men  of  his  class  some  centuries 
back,  a  very  enlightened  and  intelligent  man." 

*  See  Price  on  the  Picturesque. 

t  See  Knight  on  Taste,  and  the  Edinburgh  Review,  No.  XIV. 


CHAP.  IV.]  THE  GROUNDS.  17 

"  As  a  partisan  of  the  system  of  the  moral  perfectibility  of  the 
human  race,"  said  Mr.  Escot, — who  was  always  for  considering 
things  on  a  large  scale,  and  whose  thoughts  immediately  wan- 
dered from  the  lake  to  the  ocean,  from  the  little  boat  to  a  ship  of 
the  line, — "  you  will  probably  be  able  to  point  out  to  me  the  de- 
gree of  improvement  that  you  suppose  to  have  taken  place  in  the 
character  of  a  sailor,  from  the  days  when  Jason  sailed  through 
the  Cyanean  Symplegades,  or  Noah  moored  his  ark  on  the  summit 
of  Ararat." 

"  If  you  talk  to  me,"  said  Mr.  Foster,  "  of  mythological  per- 
sonages, of  course  I  cannot  meet  you  on  fair  grounds." 

"  We  will  begin,  if  you  please,  then,"  said  Mr.  Escot,  "  no 
further  back  than  the  battle  of  Salamis  ;  and  I  will  ask  you  if 
you  think  the  mariners  of  England  are,  in  any  one  respect,  mor- 
ally or  intellectually,  superior  to  those  who  then  preserved  the 
liberties  of  Greece,  under  the  direction  of  Themistocles  ?" 

"  I  will  venture  to  assert,"  said  Mr.  Foster,  "  that,  considered 
merely  as  sailors,  which  is  the  only  fair  mode  of  judging  them, 
they  are  as  far  superior  to  the  Athenians,  as  the  structure  of  our 
ships  is  superior  to  that  of  theirs.  Would  not  one  English  sev- 
enty-four, think  you,  have  been  sufficient  to  have  sunk,  burned, 
and  put  to  flight,  all  the  Persian  and  Grecian  vessels  in  that  mem- 
orable bay  ?  Contemplate  the  progress  of  naval  architecture, 
and  the  slow,  but  immense,  succession  of  concatenated  intelli- 
gence, by  which  it  has  gradually  attained  its  present  stage  of  per- 
fectibility. In  this,  as  in  all  other  branches  of  art  and  science, 
every  generation  possesses  all  the  knowledge  of  the  preceding, 
and  adds  to  it  its  own  discoveries  in  a  progression  to  which  there 
seems  no  limit.  The  skill  requisite  to  direct  these  immense 
machines  is  proportionate  to  their  magnitude  and  complicated 
mechanism  ;  and,  therefore,  the  English  sailor,  considered  merely 
as  a  sailor,  is  vastly  superior  to  the  ancient  Greek." 

"  You  make  a  distinction,  of  course,"  said  Mr.  Escot,  "  be- 
tween scientific  and  moral  perfectibility." 

"  I  conceive,"  said  Mr.  Foster,  "  that  men  are  virtuous  in  pro- 
portion as  they  are  enlightened  ;  and  that,  as  every  generation 
increases  in  knowledge,  it  also  increases  in  virtue." 

"  I  wish  it  were  so,"  said  Mr.  Escot ;  "  but  to  me  the  very  re- 
verse appears  to  be  the  fact.     The  progress  of  knowledge  is  not 

3 


18  HEADLONG  HALL. 


general :  it  is  confined  to  a  chosen  few  of  every  age.  How 
far  these  are  better  than  their  neighbours,  we  may  examine  by 
and  bye.  The  mass  of  mankind  is  composed  of  beasts  of  burden, 
mere  clods,  and  tools  of  their  superiors.  By  enlarging  and  com- 
plicating your  machines,  you  degrade,  not  exalt,  the  human  ani- 
mals you  employ  to  direct  them,.  When  the  boatswain  of  a  sev- 
enty-four pipes  all  hands  to  the  main  tack,  and  flourishes  his 
rope's  end  over  the  shoulders  of  the  poor  fellows  who  are  tugging 
at  the  ropes,  do  you  perceive  so  dignified,  so  gratifying  a  picture, 
as  Ulysses  exhorting  his  dear  friends,  his  EPIHPEi:  'ETAIPOI,  to 
ply  their  oars  with  energy  ?  You  will  say,  Ulysses  was  a  fabulous 
character.  But  the  economy  of  his  vessel  is  drawn  from  nature. 
Every  man  on  board  has  a  character  and  a  will  of  his  own.  He 
talks  to  them,  argues  with  them,  convinces  them ;  and  they  obey  him, 
because  they  love  him,  and  know  the  reason  of  his  orders.  Now, 
as  I  have  said  before,  all  singleness  of  character  is  lost.  We  di- 
vide men  into  herds  like  cattle  :  an  individual  m.an,  if  you  strip 
him  of  all  that  is  extraneous  to  himself,  is  the  most  wretched  and 
contemptible  creature  on  the  face  of  the  earth.  The  sciences 
advance.  True.  A  few  years  of  study  puts  a  tnodern  mathe- 
matician in  possession  of  more  than  Newton  knew,  and  leaves 
him  at  leisure  to  add  new  discoveries  of  his  own.  Agreed.  But 
does  this  make  him  a  Newton  ?  Does  it  put  him  in  possession 
of  that  range  of  intellect,  that  grasp  of  mind,  from  which  the 
discoveries  of  Newton  sprang  ?  It  is  mental  power  that  I  look 
for :  if  you  can  demonstrate  the  increase  of  that,  I  will  give  up 
the  field.  Energy — independence — individuality — disinterested 
virtue — active  benevolence — self-oblivion — universal  philanthropy 
— these  are  the  qualities  I  desire  to  find,  and  of  which  I  contend 
that  every  succeeding  age  produces  fewer  examples.  I  repeat 
it ;  there  is  scarcely  such  a  thing  to  be  found  as  a  single  indi- 
vidual man  :  a  few  classes  compose  the  whole  frame  of  society, 
and  when  you  know  one  of  a  class  you  know  the  whole  of  it. 
Give  me  the  wild  man  of  the  woods  ;  the  original,  unthinking, 
unscientific,  unlogical  savage  :  in  him  there  is  at  least  some  good  ; 
but,  in  a  civilised,  sophisticated,  cold-blooded,  mechanical,  calcu- 
lating slave  of  Mammon  and  the  world,  there  is  none — absolutely 
none.  Sir,  if  I  fall  into  a  river,  an  unsophisticated  man  will 
jump  in  and  bring  me  out ;  but  a  philosopher  will  look  on  with 


CHAP.  IV.]  THE  GROUNDS.  19 

the  utmost  calmness,  and  consider  me  in  the  light  of  a  projectile, 
and,  making  a  calculation  of  the  degree  of  force  with  which  I 
have  impinged  the  surface,  the  resistance  of  the  fluid,  the  velocity 
of  the  current,  and  the  depth  of  the  water  in  that  particular  place, 
he  will  ascertain  with  the  greatest  nicety  in  what  part  of  the  mud 
at  the  bottom  I  may  probably  be  found,  at  any  given  distance  of 
time  from  the  moment  of  my  first  immersion." 

Mr.  Foster  was  preparing  to  reply,  when  the  first  dinner-bell 
rang,  and  he  immediately  commenced  a  precipitate  return  towards 
the  house  ;  followed  by  his  two  companions,  who  both  admitted 
that  he  was  now  leading  the  way  to  at  least  a  temporary  period  of 
physical  amelioration  :  "  but,  alas  !"  added  Mr.  Escot,  after  a 
moment's  reflection,  "  Epulse  nocuere  repostse  !"* 

*  Protracted  banquets  have  been  copious  sources  of  evil 


20  HEADLONG  HALL.  [chap.  v. 


CHAPTER  V. 


THE    DINNER. 


The  sun  was  now  terminating  his  diurnal  course,  and  the 
lights  were  glittering  on  the  festal  board.  When  the  ladies  had 
retired,  and  the  Burgundy  had  taken  two  or  three  tours  of  the  ta- 
ble, the  following  conversation  took  place  : — 

squire  headlong. 
Push  about  the  bottle  :    Mr.  Escot,  it  stands  with  you.     No 
heeltaps.     As  to  skylight,  liberty-hall. 

MR.    MAC    LAUREL. 

Really,  Squire  Headlong,  this  is  the  vara  nactar  itsel.  Ye 
hae  saretainly  descovered  the  tarrestrial  paradise,  but  it  flows  wi' 
a  better  leecor  than  milk  an'  honey. 

THE    REVEREND    DOCTOR    GASTER. 

Hem  !  Mr.  Mac  Laurel !  there  is  a  degree  of  profaneness  in 
that  observation,  which  I  should  not  have  looked  for  in  so  staunch 
a  supporter  of  church  and  state.  Milk  and  honey  was  the  pure 
food  of  the  antediluvian  patriarchs,  who  knew  not  the  use  of  the 
grape,  happily  for  them. — ( Tossing  off  a  lumper  of  Burgundy.) 

MR.    ESCOT. 

Happily,  indeed !  The  first  inhabitants  of  the  world  knew  not 
the  use  either  of  wine  or  animal  food  ;  it  is,  therefore,  by  no 
means  incredible  that  they  lived  to  the  age  of  several  centuries, 
free  from  war,  and  commerce,  and  arbitrary  government,  and 
every  other  species  of  desolating  wickedness.  But  man  was  then 
a  very  different  animal  to  what  he  now  is :  he  had  not  the  faculty 
of  speech  ;  he  was  not  encumbered  with  clothes  ;  he  lived  in  the 
open  air  ;  his  first  step  out  of  which,  as  Hamlet  truly  observes, 
is  into  his  grave.*     His  first  dwellings,  of  course,  were  the  hol- 

*  See  Lord  Monboddo's  Ancient  Metaphysics. 


CHAP,  v.]  THE  DINNER.  21 

lows  of  trees  and  rocks.  In  process  of  time  he  began  to  build  : 
thence  grew  villages  ;  thence  grew  cities.  Luxury,  oppression, 
poverty,  misery,  and  disease  kept  pace  with  the  progress  of  his 
pretended  improvements,  till,  from  a  free,  strong,  healthy,  peace- 
ful animal,  he  has  become  a  weak,  distempered,  cruel,  carnivo- 
rous  slave. 

THE    REVEREND    DOCTOR    GASTER. 

Your  doctrine  is  orthodox,  in  so  far  as  you  assert  that  the  origi- 
nal  man  was  not  encumbered  with  clothes,  and  that  he  lived  in 
the  open  air ;  but,  as  to  the  faculty  of  speech,  that,  it  is  certain, 
he  had,  for  the  authority  of  Moses 

MR.    ESCOT. 

Of  course,  sir,  I  do  not  presume  to  dissent  from  the  very  ex- 
alted authority  of  that  most  enlightened  astronomer  and  profound 
cosmogonist,  who  had,  moreover,  the  advantage  of  being  inspired  ; 
but  when  I  indulge  myself  with  a  ramble  in  the  fields  of  specula- 
tion, and  attempt  to  deduce  what  is  probable  and  rational  from 
the  sources  of  analysis,  experience,  and  comparison,  I  confess  I 
am  too  often  apt  to  lose  sight  of  the  doctrines  of  that  great  foun- 
tain of  theological  and  geological  philosophy. 

SQUIRE    HEADLONG. 

Push  about  the  bottle. 

MR.    FOSTER. 

Do  you  suppose  the  mere  animal  life  of  a  wild  man,  living  on 
acorns,  and  sleeping  on  the  ground,  comparable  in  felicity  to  that 
of  a  Newton,  ranging  through  unlimited  space,  and  penetrating 
into  the  arcana  of  universal  motion — to  that  of  a  Locke,  unravel- 
ling the  labyrinth  of  mind — to  that  of  a  Lavoisier,  detecting  the 
minutest  combinations  of  matter,  and  reducing  all  nature  to  its 
elements — to  that  of  a  Shakspeare,  piercing  and  developing  the 
springs  of  passion — or  of  a  Milton,  identifying  himself,  as  it  were, 
with  the  beings  of  an  invisible  world  ! 

MR.   ESCOT. 

You  suppose  extreme  cases  :  but,  on  the  score  of  happiness, 
what  comparison  can  you  make  between  the  tranquil  being  of  the 
wild  man  of  the  woods  and  the  wretched  and  turbulent  existence 
of  Milton,  the  victim  of  persecution,  poverty,  blindness,  and  neg- 


22  HEADLONG  HALL. 


lect  ?  The  records  of  literature  demonstrate  that  Happiness  and 
Intelligence  are  seldom  sisters.  Even  if  it  were  otherwise,  it 
would  prove  nothing.  The  many  are  always  sacrificed  to  the 
few.  Where  one  man  advances,  hundreds  retrograde  ;  and  the 
balance  is  always  in  favour  of  universal  deterioration. 

MR.    FOSTER. 

Virtue  is  independent  of  external  circumstances.  The  exalted 
understanding  looks  into  the  truth  of  things,  and  in  its  own  peace- 
ful contemplations,  rises  superior  to  the  world.  No  philosopher 
would  resign  his  mental  acquisitions  for  the  purchase  of  any  ter- 
restrial good. 

MR.   ESCOT. 

In  other  words,  no  man  whatever  would  resign  his  identity, 
which  is  nothing  more  than  the  consciousness  of  his  perceptions, 
as  the  price  of  any  acquisition.  But  every  man,  without  excep- 
tion, would  willingly  effect  a  very  material  change  in  his  relative 
situation  to  other  individuals.  Unluckily  for  the  rest  of  your  ar- 
gument, the  understanding  of  literary  people  is  for  the  most  part 
exalted,  as  you  express  it,  not  so  much  by  the  love  of  truth  and 
virtue,  as  by  arrogance  and  self-sufficiency ;  and  there  is,  per- 
haps, less  disinterestedness,  less  liberality,  less  general  benevo- 
lence, and  more  envy,  hatred,  and  uncharitablencss  among  them, 
than  among  any  other  description  of  men. 

{The  eye  of  Mr.  Escot,  as  lie  'pronounced  these  words,  rested 
very  innocently  and  unintentionally  on  Mr.  Gall.) 

MR.  GALL. 

You  allude,  sir,  I  presume,  to  my  review. 

MR.    ESCOT. 

Pardon  me,  sir.  You  will  be  convinced  it  is  impossible  I  can 
allude  to  your  review,  when  I  assure  you  that  I  have  never  read 
a  single  page  of  it. 

MR.  GALL,  MR.  TREACLE,  MR.  NIGHTSHADE,  AND  MR.  MAC  LAUREL. 

Never  read  our  review  ! ! ! ! 

MR.    ESCOT. 

Never.  I  look  on  periodical  criticism  in  general  to  be  a  spe- 
cies of  shop,  where  panegyric  and  defamation  are  sold,  wholesale, 
retail,  and  for  exportation.     1  am  not  inclined  to  be  a  purchaser 


CHAP,  v.]  THE  DINNER.  23 

of  these  commodities,  or  to  encourage  a  trade  which  I  consider 
pregnant  with  mischief. 

MR.    MAC    LAUREL. 

I  can  readily  conceive,  sir,  ye  wou'd  na  wullinly  encoorage 
ony  dealer  in  panegeeric  :  but,  frae  the  manner  in  which  ye 
speak  o'  the  first  creetics  an'  scholars  o'  the  age,  I  shou'd  think 
ye  wou'd  hae  a  leetle  mair  predilaction  for  deefamation. 

MR.    ESCOT. 

I  have  no  predilection,  sir,  for  defamation.  I  make  a  point  of 
speaking  the  truth  on  all  occasions  ;  and  it  seldom  happens  that 
the  truth  can  be  spoken  without  some  stricken  deer  pronouncing 
it  a  libel. 

MR.    NIGHTSHADE. 

You  are  perhaps,  sir,  an  enemy  to  literature  in  general  ? 

MR.    ESCOT. 

If  I  were,  sir,  I  should  be  a  better  friend  to  periodical  critics. 

SQUIRE    HEADLONG. 

Buz! 

MR.    TREACLE. 

May  I  simply  take  the  liberty  to  inquire  into  the  basis  of  your 
objection  ? 

MR.    ESCOT. 

I  conceive  that  periodical  criticism  disseminates  superficial 
knowledge,  and  its  perpetual  adjunct,  vanity  ;  that  it  checks  in 
the  youthful  mind  the  habit  of  thinking  for  itself;  that  it  delivers 
partial  opinions,  and  thereby  misleads  the  judgment ;  that  it  is 
never  conducted  with  a  view  to  the  general  interests  of  literature, 
but  to  serve  the  interested  ends  of  individuals,  and  the  miserable 
purposes  of  party. 

MR.    MAC    LAUREL. 

Ye  ken,  sir,  a  mon  mun  leeve. 

MR.    ESCOT. 

While  he  can  live  honourably,  naturally,  justly,  certainly :  no 
longer. 

MR.    MAC    LAUREL. 

Every  mon,  sir,  leeves  according  to  his  ain  notions  of  honour 


24  HEADLONG  HALL.  [chap,  t 

an'  justice  :  there  is  a  wee  defference  amang  the  learned  wi'  re- 
spact  to  the  defineetion  o'  the  terms. 

MR.    ESCOT. 

I  believe  it  is  generally  admitted,  that  one  of  the  ingredients  of 
justice  is  disinterestedness. 

MR.    MAC    LAUREL. 

It  is  na  admetted,  Sir,  amang  the  pheelosophers  of  Edinbroo', 
that  there  is  ony  sic  thing  as  desenterestedness  in  the  warld,  or 
that  a  mon  can  care  for  onything  sae  much  as  his  ain  sel :  for 
ye  mun  observe,  sir,  every  mon  has  his  ain  parteecular  feelings 
of  what  is  gude,  an'  beautifu',  an'  consentaneous  to  his  ain  indi- 
veedual  nature,  an'  desires  to  see  every  thing  aboot  him  in  that 
parteecular  state  which  is  maist  conformable  to  his  ain  notions  o' 
the  moral  an'  poleetical  fetness  o'  things.  Twa  men,  sir,  sh^U 
purchase  a  piece  o'  grund  atween  'em,  and  ae  mon  shall  cov^r 
his  half  wi'  a  park 

MR.    MILESTONE. 

Beautifully  laid  out  in  lawns  and  clumps,  with  a  belt  of  trees 
at  the  circumference,  and  an  artifical  lake  in  the  centre. 

MR.    MAC    LAUREL. 

Exactly,  sir :  an'  shall  keep  it  a'  for  his  ain  sel :  an'  the  other 
mon  shall  divide  his  half  into  leetle  farms  of  twa  or  three  acres 

MR.    ESCOT. 

Like  those  of  the  Roman  republic,  and  build  a  cottage  on  each 
of  them,  and  cover  his  land  with  a  simple,  innocent,  and  smiling 
population,  who  shall  owe,  not  only  their  happiness,  but  their  ex- 
istence, to  his  benevolence. 

MR.    MAC    LAUREL. 

Exactly,  sir  :  an'  ye  will  ca'  the  first  mon  selfish,  an'  the  second 
desenterested ;  but  the  pheelosophical  truth  is  semply  this,  that 
the  ane  is  pleased  wi'  looking  at  trees,  an'  the  other  wi'  seeing 
people  happy  and  comfortable.  It  is  aunly  a  matter  of  indiveed-- 
ual  feeling.  A  paisant  saves  a  mon's  life  for  the  same  reason 
that  a  hero  or  a  footpad  cuts  his  thrapple  :  an'  a  pheelosopher  de- 
livers a  mon  frae  a  preson,  for  the  same  reason  that  a  tailor  or  a 
prime  menester  puts  him  into  it ;  because  it  is  conformable  to  his 


CHAP,  v.]  THE  DINNER.  25 

ain  parteecular  feelings  o'  the  moral    an'  poleetical  fetness  o* 
things. 

SQUIRE    HEADLONG. 

Wake  the  Reverend  Doctor.    Doctor,  the  bottle  stands  with  you. 

THE    REVEREND    DOCTOR    GASTER. 

It  is  an  error  of  which  I  am  seldom  guilty. 

MR.    MAC    LAUREL. 

Noo,  ye  ken,  sir,  every  mon  is  the  centre  of  his  ain  system, 
an'  endaivours  as  much  as  possible  to  adapt  every  thing  aroond 
him  to  his  ain  parteecular  views. 

MR.    ESCOT. 

Thus,  sir,  I  presume,  it  suits  the  particular  views  of  a  poet,  at 
one  time  to  take  the  part  of  the  people  against  their  oppressors,  and 
at  another,  to  take  the  part  of  the  oppressors  against  the  people. 

MR.    MAC    LAUREL. 

Ye  mun  alloc,  sir,  that  poetry  is  a  sort  of  ware  or  commodity, 
that  is  brought  into  the  public  market  wi'  a'  other  descreptions 
of  merchandise,  an'  that  a  mon  is  pairfectly  justified  in  getting 
the  best  price  he  can  for  his  article.  Noo,  there  are  three  rea- 
sons for  taking  the  part  o'  the  people  :  the  first  is,  when  general 
leeberty  an'  public  happiness  are  conformable  to  your  ain  par- 
teecular feelings  o'  the  moral  an'  poleetical  fetness  o'  things  :  the 
second  is,  when  they  happen  to  be,  as  it  were,  in  a  state  of  ex- 
ceetabeelity,  an'  ye  think  ye  can  get  a  gude  price  for  your  com- 
modity, by  flingin'  in  a  leetle  seasoning  o'  pheelanthropy  an'  re- 
publican speerit :  the  third  is,  when  ye  think  ye  can  bully  the 
menestry  into  gieing  ye  a  place  or  a  pansion  to  hau'd  your  din,  an' 
in  that  case,  ye  point  an  attack  against  them  within  the  pale  o' 
the  law ;  an'  if  they  tak  nae  heed  o'  ye,  ye  open  a  stronger  fire  ; 
an'  the  less  heed  they  tak,  the  mair  ye  bawl  ;  an'  the  mair  fac- 
tious ye  grow,  always  within  the  pale  o'  the  law,  till  they  send  a 
plenipotentiary  to  treat  wi'  ye  for  yoursel,  an'  then  the  mair  pop- 
ular ye  happen  to  be,  the  better  price  ye  fetch. 

SQUIRE    HEADLONG.  •    • 

Off  with  your  heeltaps. 

MR.    CRANIUM. 

I  perfectly  agree  with  Mr.  Mac  Laurel  in  his  definition  of  self- 


86  HEADLONG  HALL.  [chap.  v. 

love  and  disinterestedness  :  every  man's  actions  are  determined 
by  his  peculiar  views,  and  those  views  are  determined  by  the 
organization  of  his  skull.  A  man  in  whom  the  organ  of  benevo- 
lence is  not  developed,  cannot  be  benevolent :  he  in  whom  it  is  so, 
cannot  be  otherwise.  The  organ  of  self-love  is  prodigiously  de- 
veloped in  the  greater  number  of  subjects  that  have  fallen  under 
my  observation. 

MR.    ESCOT. 

Much  less,  I  presume,  among  savage  than  civilised  men,  who, 
constant  only  to  the  love  of  self,  and  consistent  only  in  their  aim  to 
deceive,  are  always  actuated  hy  the  hope  of  personal  advantage^ 
or  hy  the  dread  of  personal  pu7iishment.* 

MR.    CRANIUM. 

Very  probably. 

MR.    ESCOT. 

You  have,  of  course,  found  very  copious  specimens  of  the  or- 
gans of  hypocrisy,  destruction,  and  avarice. 

BIR.    CRANIUM. 

Secretiveness,  destructiveness,  and  covetiveness.  You  may 
add,  if  you  please,  that  of  constructiveness. 

MR.    ESCOT. 

Meaning,  I  presume,  the  organ  of  building ;  which  I  contend 
to  be  not  a  natural  organ  of  the  featherless  biped. 

MR.    CRANIUM. 

Pardon  me :  it  is  here. — (As  he  said  these  words,  he  produced 
a  skull  from  his  pocket,  and  placed  it  on  the  table,  to  the  great 
surprise  of  the  company.) — This  was  the  skull  of  Sir  Christopher 
Wren.  You  observe  this  protuberance — [The  skull  was  handed 
round  the  table.) 

MR.    ESCOT. 

I  contend  that  the  original  unsophisticated  man  was  by  no 
means  constructive.     He  lived  in  the  open  air,  under  a  tree. 

THE    REVEREND    DOCTOR    GASTER. 

The  tree  of  life.  Unquestionably.  Till  he  had  tasted  the  for- 
bidden fruit. 

*  Drummond's  Academical  Questions. 


ciup.  v.]  THE  DINNER.  27 

MR.    JENKISON. 

At  which  period,  probably,  the  organ  of  constructiveness  was 
added  to  his  anatomy,  as  a  punishment  for  his  transgression. 

MR.    ESCOT. 

There  could  not  have  been  a  more  severe  one,  since  the  pro- 
pensity which  has  led  him  to  building  cities  has  proved  the  great- 
est curse  of  his  existence. 

SQUIRE  HEADLONG — {taking  the  skull.) 
Memento  mori.     Come,  a  bumper  of  Burgundy. 

MR.    NIGHTSHADE. 

A  very  classical  application,  Squire  Headlong.  The  Romans 
were  in  the  practice  of  adhibiting  skulls  at  their  banquets,  and 
sometimes  little  skeletons  of  silver,  as  a  silent  admonition  to  the 
guests  to  enjoy  life  while  it  lasted. 

THE    REVEREND    DOCTOR   GASTER. 

Sound  doctrine,  Mr.  Nightshade. 

MR.    ESCOT. 

I  question  its  soundness.  The  use  of  vinous  spirit  has  a  tre- 
mendous influence  in  the  deterioration  of  the  human  race. 

MR.    FOSTER. 

I  fear,  indeed,  it  operates  as  a  considerable  check  to  the  prog- 
ress of  the  species  towards  moral  and  intellectual  perfection.  Yet 
many  great  men  have  been  of  opinion  that  it  exalts  the  imagina- 
tion, fires  the  genius,  accelerates  the  flow  of  ideas,  and  imparts 
to  dispositions  naturally  cold  and  deliberative,  that  enthusiastic 
sublimation  which  is  the  source  of  greatness  and  energy. 

MR.    NIGHTSHADE. 

Laudibus  arguitur  vini  vinosus  Homerus.* 

■MR.    JENKISON. 

I  conceive  the  use  of  wine  to  be  always  pernicious  in  excess, 
but  often  useful  in  moderation  :  it  certainly  kills  some,  but  it  saves 
the  lives  of  others  :  I  find  that  an  occasional  glass,  taken  with 
judgment  and  caution,  has  a  very  salutary  effect  in  maintaining 

*  Homer  is  proved  to  have  been  a  lover  of  wine  by  the  praises  he  bestows 
upon  it. 


HEADLONG  HALL.  [chap.  v. 


that  equilibrium  of  the  system,  which  it  is  always  my  aim  to  pre- 
serve ;  and  this  calm  and  temperate  use  of  wine  was,  no  doubt, 
what  Homer  meant  to  inculcate,  when  he  said : 

Tlap  Ss  Seiras  otvoio^  mciv  ot£  Ovjxos  avuiyoi,''^ 
SQUIRE    HEADLONG. 

Good.     Pass  the  bottle. 

(Un  morne  silence.) 
Sir  Christopher  does  not  seem  to  have  raised  our  spirits.     Chro- 
matic, favour  us  with  a  specimen  of  your  vocal  powers.     Some- 
thing in  point. 

Mr.  Chromatic,  without  further  preface,  immediately  struck  up 
the  following 

SONG. 

In  his  last  blnn  Sir  Peter  lies, 

Who  knew  not  what  it  was  to  frown : 
Death  took  him  mellow,  by  surprise, 

And  in  his  cellar  stopped  him  down. 
Through  all  our  land  we  could  not  boast 

A  knight  more  gay,  more  prompt  than  he, 
To  rise  and  fill  a  bumper  toast, 

And  pass  it  round  with  three  times  three. 

None  better  knew  the  feast  to  sway, 

Or  keep  Mirth's  boat  in  better  trim  ; 
For  Nature  had  but  little  clay 

Like  that  of  which  she  moulded  him. 
The  meanest  guest  that  graced  his  board 

Was  there  the  freest  of  the  free, 
His  bumper  toast  when  Peter  poured, 

And  passed  it  round  with  three  times  three 

He  kept  at  true  good  humour's  mark 

The  social  flow  of  pleasure's  tide : 
He  never  made  a  brow  look  dark. 

Nor  caused  a  tear,  but  when  he  died. 
No  sorrow  round  his  tomb  should  dwell : 

More  pleased  his  gay  old  ghost  would  be, 
For  funeral  song,  and  passing  bell. 

To  hear  no  sound  but  three  times  three. 

(Hammering  of  knuckles  and  glasses,  and  shouts  of  Bravo .') 
*  A  cup  of  wine  at  hand,  to  drink  as  inclination  prompts. 


CHAP,  v.]  THE  DINNER.  29 

MR.    PANSCOPE. 

(^Suddenly  emerging  from  a  deep  reverie.) 
I  have  heard,  with  the  most  profound  attention,  every  thing 
which  the  gentleman  on  the  other  side  of  the  table  has  thought 
proper  to  advance  on  the  subject  of  human  deterioration ;  and  I 
must  take  the  liberty  to  remark,  that  it  augurs  a  very  considera- 
ble degree  of  presumption  in  any  individual,  to  set  himself  up 
against  the  authority  of  so  many  great  men,  as  may  be  marshalled 
in  metaphysical  phalanx  under  the  opposite  banners  of  the  con- 
troversy ;  such  as  Aristotle,  Plato,  the  scholiast  on  Aristophanes, 
St.  Chrysostom,  St.  Jerome,  St.  Athanasius,  Orpheus,  Pindar, 
Simonides,  Gronovius,  Hemsterhusius,  Longinus,  Sir  Isaac  New- 
ton, Thomas  Paine,  Doctor  Paley,  the  King  of  Prussia,  the  King 
of  Poland,  Cicero,  Monsieur  Gautier,  Hippocrates,  Machiavelli, 
Milton,  Colley  Gibber,  Bojardo,  Gregory  Nazianzenus,  Locke, 
D'Alembert,  Boccaccio,  Daniel  Defoe,  Erasmus,  Doctor  Smollett, 
Zimmermann,  Solomon,  Confucius,  Zoroaster,  and  Thomas-a- 
Kempis. 

MR.    ESCOT. 

1  presume,  sir,  you  are  one  of  those  who  value  an  authority 
more  than  a  reason. 

MR.    PANSCOPE. 

The  authority,  sir,  of  all  these  great  men,  whose  works,  as  well 
as  the  whole  of  the  Encyclopsedia  Britannica,  the  entire  series  of 
the  Monthly  Review,  the  complete  set  of  the  Variorum  Classics, 
and  the  Memoirs  of  the  Academy  of  Inscriptions,  I  have  read 
through  from  beginning  to  end,  deposes,  with  irrefragable  refuta- 
tion, against  your  ratiocinative  speculations,  wherein  you  seem 
desirous,  by  the  futile  process  of  analytical  dialectics,  to  subvert 
the  pyramidal  structure  of  synthetically  deduced  opinions,  which 
have  withstood  the  secular  revolutions  of  physiological  disquisition, 
and  which  I  maintain  to  be  transcendentally  self-evident,  categor- 
ically certain,  and  syllogistically  demonstrable. 

SQUIRE    HEADLONG. 

Bravo !  Pass  the  bottle.  The  very  best  speech  that  ever  was 
made. 

MR.    ESCOT. 

It  has  only  the  slight  disadvantage  of  being  unintelligible. 


30  HEADLONG  HALL.  [chap.  v. 

BIR.    PANSCOPE. 

I  am  not  obliged,  sir,  as  Dr.  Johnson  observed  on  a  similar 
occasion,  to  furnish  you  with  an  understanding. 

DIR.    ESCOT. 

I  fear,  sir,  you  would  have  some  difficulty  in  furnishing  me 
with  such  an  article  from  your  own  stock. 

MR.    PANSCOPE. 

'Sdeath,  sir,  do  you  question  my  understanding  ? 

MR.    ESCOT. 

I  only  question,  sir,  where  I  expect  a  reply ;  which,  from 
things  that  have  no  existence,  I  am  not  visionary  enough  to  an- 
ticipate. 

BIR.    PANSCOPE. 

I  beg  leave  to  observe,  sir,  that  my  language  was  perfectly 
perspicuous,  and  etymologically  correct ;  and,  I  conceive,  I  have 
demonstrated  what  I  shall  now  take  the  liberty  to  say  in  plain 
terms,  that  all  your  opinions  are  extremely  absurd. 

MR.    ESCOT. 

I  should  be  sorry,  sir,  to  advance  any  opinion  that  you  would 
not  think  absurd. 

MR.    PANSCOPE. 

Death  and  fury,  sir 

MR.    ESCOT. 

Say  no  more,  sir.     That  apology  is  quite  sufficient. 

BIR.    PANSCOPE. 

Apology,  sir? 

MR.    ESCOT. 

Even  so,  sir.  You  have  lost  your  temper,  which  I  consider 
equivalent  to  a  confession  that  you  have  the  v/orst  of  the  argu- 
ment. 

MR.    PANSCOPE. 

Lightning  and  devils  !  sir 

SQUIRE    HEADLONG. 

No  civil  war ! — Temperance,  in  the  name  of  Bacchus ! — A 
glee !  a  glee !  Music  has  charms  to  lend  the  knotted  oak.  Sir 
Patrick,  you'll  join  ? 


CHAP,  v.]  THE  DINNER.  31 

SIR    PATRICK    O'PRISM. 

Troth,  with  all  my  heart :  for,  by  my  soul,  I'm  bothered  com- 
pletely. 

SQUIRE    HEADLONG. 

Agreed,  then  :  you,  and  I,  and  Chromatic.  Bumpers  ! — bum- 
pers !     Come,  strike  up. 

Squire  Headlong,  Mr.  Chromatic,  and  Sir  Patrick  O'Prism, 
each  holding  a  bumper,  immediately  vociferated  the  following 

GLEE. 
A  heeltap  !  a  heeltap  !  I  never  could  bear  it ! 
So  fill  me  a  bumper,  a  bumber  of  claret ! 
Let  the  bottle  pass  freely,  don't  shirk  it  nor  spare  it, 
For  a  heeltap  I  a  heeltap  !  I  never  could  bear  it ! 

No  skylight !  no  twilight !  while  Bacchus  rules  o'er  us : 
No  thinking !  no  shrinking !  all  drinking  in  chorus : 
Let  us  moisten  our  clay,  since  'tis  tliii-sty  and  porous : 
No  thinking !  no  shrinking !  all  drinking  in  chorus  I 

GRAND    CHORUS. 

By  Squire  Headlong,  Mr.  Chromatic,  Sir  Patrick  O'Prism,  Mr. 
Panscope,  Mr.  Jenkison,  Mr.  Gall,  Mr.  Treacle,  Mr.  Night- 
shade, Mr.  Mac  Laurel,  Mr.  Cranium,  Mr.  Milestone,  and 
the  Reverend  Doctor  Gaster. 

A  heeltap  !  a  heeltap  !  I  never  could  bear  it ! 
So  fill  me  a  bumper,  a  bumber  of  claret ! 
Let  the  bottle  pass  freely,  don't  shirk  it  nor  spare  it ! 
For  a  heeltap  !  a  heeltap  !  I  never  could  bear  it ! 

'OMAAOE  KAI  AOYHOE  OPQPEI!' 
The  little  butler  was  waddled  in  with  a  summons  from  the  la- 
dies to  tea  and  coffee.  The  squire  was  unwilling  to.  leave  his 
Burgundy.  Mr.  Escot  strenuously  urged  the  necessity  of  imme- 
diate adjournment,  observing,  that  the  longer  they  continued  drink- 
ing the  worse  they  should  be.  Mr.  Foster  seconded  the  motion, 
declaring  the  transition  from  the  bottle  to  female  society  to  be  an 
indisputable  amelioration  of  the  state  of  the  sensitive  man.  Mr. 
Jenkison  allowed  the  squire  and  his  two  brother  philosophers  to 
settle  the  point  between  them,  concluding  that  he  was  just  as  well 
in  one  place  as  another.  The  question  of  adjournment  was  then 
put,  and  carried  by  a  large  majority. 


32  HEADLONG  HALL.  [chap.  vi. 


CHAPTER   VI. 

THE    EVENING. 

Mr.  Panscope,  highly  irritated  by  the  cool  contempt  with  which 
Mr.  Escot  had  treated  him,  sate  sipping  his  coffee  and  meditating 
revenge.  He  was  not  long  in  discovering  the  passion  of  his  an- 
tagonist for  the  beautiful  Cephalis,  for  whom  he  had  himself  a 
species  of  predilection  ;  and  it  was  also  obvious  to  him,  that  there 
was  some  lurking  ang-er  in  the  mind  of  her  father,  unfavourable 
to  the  hopes  of  his  rival.  The  stimulus  of  revenge,  superadded 
to  that  of  preconceived  inclination,  determined  him,  after  due  de- 
liberation, to  cut  out  Mr.  Escot  in  the  young  lady's  favour.  The 
practicability  of  this  design  he  did  not  trouble  himself  to  investi- 
gate ;  for  the  havoc  he  had  made  in  the  hearts  of  some  silly  girls, 
who  were  extremely  vulnerable  to  flattery,  and  v/ho,  not  under- 
standing a  word  he  said,  considered  him  a  prodigious  clever  man, 
had  impressed  him  with  an  unhesitating  idea  of  his  own  irresisti- 
bility. He  had  not  only  the  requisites  already  specified  for  fas- 
cinating female  vanity,  he  could  likewise  fiddle  with  tolerable 
dexterity,  though  by  no  means  so  quick  as  Mr.  Chromatic  (for  our 
readers  are  of  course  aware  that  rapidity  of  execution,  not  delica- 
cy of  expression,  constitutes  the  scientific  perfection  of  modern  mu- 
sic), and  could  warble  a  fashionable  love-ditty  with  considerable 
affectation  of  feeling  :  besides  this,  he  was  always  extremely  well 
dressed,  and  was  heir-apparent  to  an  estate  of  ten  thousand  a-year. 
The  influence  which  the  latter  consideration  might  have  on  the 
minds  of  the  majority  of  his  female  acquaintance,  whose  morals 
had  been  formed  by  the  novels  of  such  writers  as  Miss  Philomela 
Poppyseed,  did  not  once  enter  into  his  calculation  of  his  own  per- 
sonal attractions.  Relying,  therefore,  on  past  success,  he  deter- 
mined to  appeal  to  his  fortune,  and  already,  in  imagination,  con- 
sidered himself  sole  lord  and  master  of  the  affections  of  the  beau- 
tiful Cephalis. 


CHAP.  VI.]  THE  EVENING.  33 

Mr.  Escot  and  Mr.  Foster  were  the  only  two  of  the  party  who 
had  entered  the  library  (to  which  the  ladies  had  retired,  and  which 
was  interior  to  the  music-room)  in  a  state  of  perfect  sobriety. 
Mr.  Escot  had  placed  himself  next  to  the  beautiful  Cephalis  :  Mr. 
Cranium  had  laid  aside  m.uch  of  the  terror  of  his  frown  ;  the 
short  craniological  conversation,  which  had  passed  between  him 
and  Mr.  Escot,  had  softened  his  heart  in  his  favour ;  and  the 
copious  libations  of  Burgundy  in  which  he  had  indulged  had 
smoothed  his  brow  into  unusual  serenity. 

Mr.  Foster  placed  himself  near  the  lovely  Caprioletta,  whose 
artless  and  innocent  conversation  had  already  made  an  impres- 
sion on  his  susceptible  spirit. 

The  Reverend  Doctor  Gaster  seated  himself  in  the  corner  of  a 
sofa  near  Miss  Philomela  Poppyseed.  Miss  Philomela  detailed  to 
him  the  plan  of  a  very  moral  and  aristocratical  novel  she  was  pre- 
paring for  the  press,  and  continued  holding  forth,  with  her  eyes  half 
shut,  till  a  long-drawn  nasal  tone  from  the  reverend  divine  compelled 
her  suddenly  to  open  them  in  all  the  indignation  of  surprise.  The 
cessation  of  the  hum  of  her  voice  awakened  the  reverend  gentle- 
man, who,  lifting  up  first  one  eyelid,  then  the  other,  articulated, 
or  rather  murmured,  "  Admirably  planned,  indeed  !" 

"  I  have  not  quite  finished,  sir,"  said  Miss  Philomela,  bridling. 
"  Will  you  have  the  goodness  to  inform  me  where  I  left  off?" 

The  doctor  hummed  a  while,  and  at  length  answered :  "  I  think 
you  had  just  laid  it  down  as  a  position,  that  a  thousand  a-year  is 
an  indispensable  ingredient  in  the  passion  of  love,  and  that  no 
man,  who  is  not  so  far  gifted  by  nature,  can  reasonably  presume 
to  feel  that  passion  himself,  or  be  correctly  the  object  of  it  with  a 
well-educated  female." 

"  That,  sir,"  said  Miss  Philomela,  highly  incensed,  "  is  the 
fundamental  principle  which  I  lay  down  in  the  first  chapter,  and 
which  the  whole  four  volumes,  of  which  I  detailed  to  you  the  out- 
line, are  intended  to  set  in  a  strong  practical  light." 

"  Bless  me !"  said  the  doctor,  "  what  a  nap  I  must  have  had  !" 

Miss  Philomela  flung  away  to  the  side  of  her  dear  friends  Gall 
and  Treacle,  under  whose  fostering  patronage  she  had  been  puffed 
into  an  extensive  reputation,  much  to  the  advantage  of  the  young 
ladies  of  the  age,  whom  she  taught  to  consider  themselves  as  a 
sort  of  commodity,  to  be  put  up  at  public  auction,  and  knocked 

4 


34  IIEADLOXG  HALL.  [chap.  vi. 

down  to  the  higliest  bidder.  Mr.  Nightshade  and  Mr.  Mac  Lau- 
rel joined  the  trio  ;  and  it  was  secretly  resolved,  that  Miss  Philo- 
mela should  furnish  them  with  a  portion  of  her  manuscripts,  and 
that  Messieurs  Gall  and  Co.  should  devote  the  following  morning 
to  cutting  and  drying  a  critique  on  a  work  calculated  to  prove 
so  extensively  beneficial,  that  Mr.  Gall  protested  he  really  envied 
the  writer. 

While  this  amiable  and  enlightened  quintetto  v/ere  busily  em- 
ployed in  flattering  one  another,  Mr.  Cranium  retired  to  complete 
the  preparations  he  had  begun  in  the  morning  for  a  lecture,  v»ith 
which  he  intended,  on  some  furture  evening,  to  favour  the  compa- 
ny :  Sir  Patrick  O'Prism  v.'alked  out  into  the  grounds  to  study  the 
effect  of  moonlight  on  the  snow-clad  mountains  :  Mr.  Foster  and 
Mr.  Escot  continued  to  make  love,  and  Mr.  Panscope  to  digest 
his^plan  of  attack  on  the  heart  of  Miss  Cephalis  :  Mr.  Jenkison 
sate  by  the  fire,  reading  Aluch  Ado  ahout  Nothing  :  the  Reverend 
Doctor  Gaster  was  still  enjoying  the  benefit  of  Miis  Philomela's 
opiate,  and  serenading  the  company  from  his  solitary  corner : 
Mr.  Chromatic  was  reading  music,  and  occasionally  humming  a 
note  :  and  Mr.  Milestone  had  produced  his  portfolio  for  the  edifi- 
cation and  amusement  of  Miss  Tenorina,  Miss  Graziosa,  and 
Squire  Headlong,  to  whom  he  was  pointing  out  the  various  beau- 
ties of  his  plan  for  Lord  Littlcbrain's  park. 

MFt.    MILESTONE. 

This,  you  perceive,  is  the  natural  state  of  one  part  of  the 
grounds.  Here  is  a  wood,  never  yet  touched  by  the  finger  of 
taste  ;  thick,  intricate,  and  gloomy.  Here  is  a  little  stream, 
dashing  from  stone  to  stone,  and  overshadowed  with  these  un- 
trimmed  boughs. 

MISS   TENORINA. 

The  sweet  romantic  spot !  How  beautifully  the  birds  must 
sing  there  on  a  summer  evening  ! 

MISS    GRAZIOSA. 

Dear  sister !  how  can  you  endure  the  horrid  thicket  ? 

MR.    MILESTONE. 

You  are  right,  Miss  Graziosa  :  your  taste  is  correct — perfectly 
en  regie.     Now,  here  is  the  same  place  corrected — trimmed — 


CHAP.  VI.]  THE  EVENING.  35 

polished — decorated — adorned.  Here  sweeps  a  plantation,  in  that 
beautiful  regular  ^curve  :  there  winds  a  gravel  walk  :  here  are 
parts  of  the  old  wood,  left  in  these  majestic  circular  clumps,  dis- 
posed at  equal  distances  with  wonderful  symmetry :  there  are 
some  single  shrubs  scattered  in  elegant  profusion  :  here  a  Portugal 
laurel,  there  a  juniper ;  here  a  lauristinus,  there  a  spruce  fir ; 
here  a  larch,  there  a  lilac  ;  here  a  rhododendron,  there  an  arbu- 
tus. Tlie  stream,  you  sec,  is  become  a  canal :  the  banks  are  per* 
fectly  smooth  and  green,  sloping  to  the  water's  edge  :  and  there  is 
Lord  Littlebrain,  rowing  in  an  elegant  boat. 


SQUIRE    HEADLONG. 


Magical,  faith ! 


MR.    MILESTONE. 

Here  is  another  part  of  the  grounds  in  its  natural  state.  Here 
is  a  large  rock,  with  the  mountain-ash  rooted  in  its  fissures,  over- 
grown, as  you  see,  with  ivy  and  moss  ;  and  from  this  part  of  it 
bursts  a  little  fountain,  that  runs  bubbling  down  its  rugged  sides. 

MISS  TENORINA. 

O  how  beautiful !  How  I  should  love  the  melody  of  that  min- 
iature cascade  ! 

MR.    MILESTONE. 

Beautiful,  ]\Iiss  Tenorina !  Hideous.  Base,  common,  and 
popular.  Such  a  thing  as  you  may  see  anywhere,  in  wild  and 
mountainous  districts.  Now,  observe  the  metamorphosis.  Here 
is  the  same  rock,  cut  into  the  shape  of  a  giant.  In  one  hand  he 
holds  a  horn,  through  which  that  little  fountain  is  thrown  to  a 
prodigious  elevation.  In  the  other  is  a  ponderous  stone,  so  ex- 
actly balanced  as  to  be  apparently  ready  to  fall  on  the  head  of 
any  person  who  may  happen  to  be  beneath  :*  and  there  is  Lord 
Littlebrain  walking  under  it. 

SQUIRE  HEADLONG. 

Miraculous,  by  Mahomet ! 

MR.    MILESTONE. 

This  is  the  summit  of  a  hill,  covered,  as  you  perceive,  with 
wood,  and  with  those  mossy  stones  scattered  at  random  under  the 
trees. 

*  See  KnijrHt  on  Taste. 


36  HEADLONG  HALL.  [chap.  vi. 

MISS  TENORINA. 

What  a  delightful  spot  to  read  in,  on  a  summer's  day  !  The 
air  must  be  so  pure,  and  the  wind  must  sound  so  divinely  in  the 
tops  of  those  old  pines  ! 

MR.    MILESTONE. 

Bad  taste,  Miss  Tenorina.  Bad  taste,  I  assure  you.  Here  is 
the  spot  improved.  The  trees  are  cut  down :  the  stones  are 
cleared  away  :  this  is  an  octagonal  pavilion,  exactly  on  the  cen- 
tre of  the  summit :  and  there  you  see  Lord  Littlebrain,  on  the  top 
of  the  pavilion,  enjoying  the  prospect  with  a  telescope. 

SQUIRE    HEADLONG. 

Glorious,  egad! 

MR.    MILESTONE. 

Here  is  a  rugged  mountainous  road,  leading  through  imper- 
vious shades  :  the  ass  and  the  four  goats  characterise  a  wild  un- 
cultured scene.  Here,  as  you  perceive,  it  is  totally  changed  into 
a  beautiful  gravel-road,  gracefully  curving  through  a  belt  of 
limes :  and  there  is  Lord  Littlebrain  driving  four-in-hand. 

SQUIRE    HEADLONG. 

Egregious,  by  Jupiter ! 

MR.    MILESTONE. 

"  Here  is  Littlebrain  Castle,  a  Gothic,  moss-grown  structure, 
half-bosomed  in  trees.  Near  the  casement  of  that  turret  is  an 
owl  peeping  from  the  ivy. 

SQUIRE   HEADLONG. 

And  devilish  wise  he  looks. 

MR.    MILESTONE. 

Here  is  the  new  house,  without  a  tree  near  it,  standing  in  the 
midst  of  an  undulating  lawn  :  a  white,  polished,  angular  building, 
reflected  to  a  nicety  in  this  waveless  lake  :  and  there  you  see 
Lord  Littlebrain  looking  out  of  the  window. 

SQUIRE    HEADLONG. 

And  devilish  wise  he  looks  too.  You  shall  cut  me  a  giant  be- 
ibre  you  go. 

MR.    MILESTONE. 

Good.     I'll  order  down  my  little  corps  of  pioneers. 


THE  EVENING.  37 


During  this  conversation,  a  hot  dispute  had  arisen  between 
]\Iessieurs  Gall  and  Nightshade ;  the  latter  pertinaciously  insist- 
ing on  having  his  new  poem  reviewed  by  Treacle,  who  he  knew 
would  extol  it  most  loftily,  and  not  by  Gall,  whose  sarcastic  com- 
mendation he  held  in  superlative  horror.  The  remonstrances  of 
Squire  Headlong  silenced  the  disputants,  but  did  not  mollify  the 
inflexible  Gall,  nor  appease  the  irritated  Nightshade,  who  secretly 
resolved  that,  on  his  return  to  London,  he  would  beat  his  drum  in 
Grub  Street,  form  a  mastigophoric  corps  of  his  own,  and  hoist  the 
standard  of  determined  opposition  against  this  critical  Napoleon. 

Sir  Patrick  O'Prism  now  entered,  and,  after  some  rapturous 
exclamations  on  the  effect  of  the  mountain-moonlight,  entreated 
that  one  of  the  young  ladies  would  favour  him  with  a  song.  Miss 
Tenorina  and  Miss  Graziosa  now  enchanted  the  company  with 
some  very  scientific  compositions,  which,  as  usual,  excited  admi- 
ration and  astonishment  in  every  one,  without  a  single  particle  of 
genuine  pleasure.  The  beautiful  Cephalis  being  then  summoned 
to  take  her  station  at  the  harp,  sang  with  feeling  and  simplicity 
the  following  air  : — 

LOVE  AND  OPPORTUNITY. 

Oh  !  who  art  thou,  so  swiftly  flying  ? 

My  name  is  Love,  the  child  replied : 
Swifter  I  pass  than  south-winds  sighing, 

Or  streams,  through  summer  vales  that  glide. 
And  who  art  thou,  his  flight  pursuing? 

'T  is  cold  Neglect  whom  now  you  see: 
The  little  god  you  there  are  viewing, 

Will  die,  if  once  he 's  touched  by  me. 

*  Oh  !  who  art  thou  so  fast  proceeding, 

Ne'er  glancing  back  thine  eyes  of  flame  ? 
Marked  but  by  fev/,  through  earth  I  'm  speeding, 

And  Opportunity 's  my  name. 
What  form  is  that,  which  scowls  beside  thee  ? 

Repentance  is  the  form  you  see  : 
Learn  then,  the  fate  may  yet  betide  thee : 

She  seizes  them  who  seize  not  me. 

The  little  butler  now  appeared  with  a  summons  to  supper, 
shortly  after  which  the  party  dispersed  for  the  night. 

*  This  stanza  is  imitated  from  Machiavelli's  Capitolo  delV  Occasione. 


38  HEADLONG  HALL.  [chap,  vil 


CHAPTER  VIL 


THE  WALK. 


It  was  an  old  custom  in  Headlong  Hall  to  have  breakfast  ready 
at  eight,  and  continue  it  till  two  ;  that  the  various  guests  might 
rise  at  their  own  hour,  breakfast  when  they  came  dov/n,  and  em- 
ploy the  morning  as  they  thought  proper ;  the  squire  only  expect- 
ing that  they  should  punctually  assemble  at  dinner.  During  the 
whole  of  this  period,  the  little  butler  stood  sentineUat.a  side-table 
near  the  fire,  copiously  furnished  with  all  the  apparatus  of  tea, 
coffee,  chocolate,  milk,  cream,  eggs,  rolls,  toast,  raufhns,  bread, 
butter,  potted  beef,  cold  fowl  and  partridge,  ham,  tongue,  and  an- 
chovy. The  Reverend  Doctor  Gaster  found  himself  rather  queasij 
in  the  morning,  therefore  preferred  breakfasting  in  bed,  on  a  mug 
of  buttered  ale  and  an  anchovy  toast.  The  three  philosophers 
made  their  appearance  at  eight,  and  enjoyed  les  i^remices  des  de- 
poidlles.  Mr.  Foster  proposed  that,  as  it  was  a  fine  frosty  morn- 
ing, and  they  were  all  good  pedestrians,  they  should  take  a  walk 
to  Tremadoc,  to  see  the  improvements  carrying  on  in  that  vicinity. 
This  being  readily  acceded  to,  they  began  their  walk. 

After  their  departure,  appeared  Squire  Headlong  and  Mr.  Mile- 
stone, who  agreed,  over  their  muffin  and  partridge,  to  walk  to- 
gether to  a  ruined  tower,  within  the  precincts  of  the  squire's 
grounds,  which  Mr.  Milestone  thought  he  could  improve. 

The  other  guests  dropped  in  by  one's  and  two's,  and  made  their 
respective  arrangements  for  the  morning.  Mr.  Panscope  took  a 
little  ramble  with  Mr.  Cranium,  in  the  course  of  which,  the  for- 
mer professed  a  great  enthusiasm  for  the  science  of  craniology, 
and  a  great  deal  of  love  for  the  beautiful  Cephalis,  adding  a  few 
words  about  his  expectations  :  the  old  gentleman  w^as  unable  to 
withstand  this  triple  battery,  and  it  was  accordingly  determined — 
after  the  manner  of  the  heroic  age,  in  which  it  was  deemed  super- 
fluous to  consult  the  opinions  and  feelings  of  the  lady,  as  to  thf» 


CHAP,  vii.]  THE  WALK.  39 

manner  in  which  she  should  be  disposed  of — that  the  lovely  Miss 
Cranium  should  be  made  the  happy  bride  of  the  accomplished 
Mr.  Panscope.  We  sliall  leave  them  for  the  present  to  settle  pre- 
liminaries, while  we  accompany  the  three  philosophers  in  their 
walk  to  Tremadoc. 

The  vale  contracted  as  they  advanced,  and,  when  they  had 
passed  the  termination  of  the  lake,  their  road  wound  along  a  nar- 
row and  romantic  pass,  through  the  middle  of  which  an  impetuous 
torrent  dashed  over  vast  fragments  of  stone.  The  pass  was  bor- 
dered on  both  sides  by  perpendicular  rocks,  broken  into  the  wild- 
est forms  of  fantastic  magnificence. 

"  These  are,  indeed,"  said  Mr.  Escot,  "  confracti  mundi  ru- 
dera  ;"*  yet  they  must  be  feeble  images  of  the  valleys  of  the 
Andes,  where  the  philosophic  eye  may  contemplate,  in  their  utmost 
extent,  the  effects  of  that  tremendous  convulsion  which  destroyed 
the  perpendicularity  of  the  poles,  and  inundated  this  globe  with 
that  torrent  of  physical  evil,  from  which  the  greater  torrent  of 
moral  evil  has  issued,  that  will  continue  to  roll  on,  with  an  ex- 
pansive power  and  an  accelerated  impetus,  till  the  whole  human 
race  shall  be  swept  away  in  its  vortex." 

"  The  precession  of  the  equinoxes,"  said  Mr.  Foster,  "  will 
gradually  ameliorate  the  physical  state  of  our  planet,  till  the 
ecliptic  shall  again  coincide  with  the  equator,  and  the  equal  dif- 
fusion of  light  and  heat  over  the  v»'hole  surface  of  the  earth  typify 
the  equal  and  happy  existence  of  man,  who  will  then  have  attained 
the  final  step  of  pure  and  perfect  intelligence." 

"  It  is  by  no  means  clear,"  said  Mr.  Jekinson,  "  that  the  axis 
of  the  earth  was  ever  perpendicular  to  the  plane  of  its  orbit,  or 
that  it  ever  will  be  so.  Explosion  and  convulsion  are  necessary 
to  the  maintenance  of  either  hypothesis  :  for  La  Place  has  demon- 
strated, that  the  precession  of  the  equinoxes  is  only  a  secular 
equation  of  a  very  long  period,  which,  of  course,  proves  nothing 
either  on  one  side  or  the  other." 

They  now  emerged,  by  a  winding  ascent,  from  the  vale  of 
Llanberris,  and  after  some  little  time  arrived  at  Bedd  Gelert. 
Proceeding  through  the  sublimely  romantic  pass  of  Aberglaslynn, 
their  road  led  along  the  edge  of  Traeth  Mawr,  a  vast  arm  of 

*  Fragments  of  a  demolished  world. 


40  HEADLONG  HALL.  [chap.  vii. 

the  sea,  which  they  then  beheld  in  all  the  magnificence  of  the  flow- 
ing tide.  Another  five  miles  brought  them  to  the  embankment, 
which  has  since  been  completed,  and  which,  by  connecting  the 
two  counties  of  Meirionnydd  and  Caernarvon,  excludes  the  sea 
from  an  extensive  tract.  The  embankment,  which  was  carried 
on  at  the  same  time  from  both  the  opposite  coasts,  was  then  very 
nearly  meeting  in  the  centre.  They  walked  to  the  extremity  of 
that  part  of  it  which  was  thrown  out  from  the  Caernarvonshire 
shore.  The  tide  was  now  ebbing :  it  had  filled  the  vast  basin 
within,  forming  a  lake  about  five  miles  in  length  and  more  than 
one  in  breadth.  As  they  looked  upwards  with  their  backs  to  the 
open  sea,  they  beheld  a  scene  which  no  other  in  this  country  can 
parallel,  and  which  the  admirers  of  the  magnificence  of  nature 
will  ever  remember  with  regret,  whatever  consolation  may  be 
derived  from  the  probable  utility  of  the  works  which  have  excluded 
the  waters  from  their  ancient  receptacle.  Vast  rocks  and  preci- 
pices, intersected  with  little  torrents,  formed  the  barrier  on  the 
left :  on  the  right,  the  triple  summit  of  Moelwyn  reared  its  majes- 
tic boundary  :  in  the  depth  was  that  sea  of  mountains,  the  wild 
and  stormy  outline  of  the  Snowdonian  chain,  with  the  giant 
Wyddfa  towering  in  the  midst.  The  mountain-frame  remains 
unchanged,  unchangeable ;  but  the  liquid  mirror  it  enclosed  is 
gone. 

The  tide  ebbed  with  rapidity :  the  waters  within,  retained  by 
the  embankment,  poured  through  its  two  points  an  impetuous 
cateract,  curling  and  boiling  in  innumerable  eddies,  and  making 
a  tumultuous  melody  admirably  in  unison  with  the  surrounding 
scene.  The  three  philosophers  looked  on  in  silence  ;  and  at  length 
unwillingly  turned  away  and  proceeded  to  the  little  town  of  Tre- 
madoc,  which  is  built  on  land  recovered  in  a  similar  manner  from 
the  sea.  After  inspecting  the  manufactories,  and  refreshing 
themselves  at  the  inn  on  a  cold  saddle  of  mutton  and  a  bottle  of 
sherry,  they  retraced  their  steps  towards  Headlong  Hall,  com- 
menting as  they  went  on  the  various  objects  they  had  seen. 

MR.    ESCOT. 

I  regret  that  time  did  not  allow  us  to  see  the  caves  on  the  sea- 
shore. There  is  one  of  which  the  depth  is  said  to  be  unknown. 
There  is  a  tradition  in  the  country,  that  an  adventurous  fiddler 


CHAP.  VII.]  THE  WALK.  41 

once  resolved  to  explore  it ;  that  he  entered,  and  never  returned ; 
but  that  the  subterranean  sound  of  a  fiddle  was  heard  at  a  farm- 
house seven  miles  inland.  It  is,  therefore,  concluded  that  he  lost 
his  way  in  the  labyrinth  of  caverns  supposed  to  exist  under  the 
rocky  soil  of  this  part  of  the  country. 

MR.    JENKISON. 

A  supposition  that  must  always  remain  in  force,  unless  a  second 
fiddler,  equally  adventurous  and  more  successful,  should  return 
with  an  accurate  report  of  the  true  state  of  the  fact. 

MR.    FOSTER. 

What  think  you  of  the  little  colony  we  have  just  been  inspect- 
ing ;  a  city,  as  it  were,  in  its  cradle  ? 

MR.    ESCOT. 

With  all  the  weakness  of  infancy,  and  all  the  vices  of  maturer 
age.  I  confess,  the  sight  of  those  manufactories,  which  have 
suddenly  sprung  up,  like  fungous  excrescences,  in  the  bosom  of 
these  wild  and  desolate  scenes,  impressed  me  with  as  much  hor- 
ror  and  amazement  as  the  sudden  appearance  of  the  stocking 
manufactory  struck  into  the  mind  of  Rousseau,  when,  in  a  lonely 
valley  of  the  Alps,  he  had  just  congratulated  himself  on  finding  a 
spot  where  man  had  never  been. 

MR.    FOSTER. 

The  manufacturing  system  is  not  yet  purified  from  some  evils 
which  necessarily  attend  it,  but  which  I  conceive  are  greatly 
overbalanced  by  their  concomitant  advantages.  Contemplate 
the  vast  sum  of  human  industry  to  which  this  system  so  essen- 
tially contributes :  seas  covered  with  vessels,  ports  resounding 
with  life,  profound  researches,  scientific  inventions,  complicated 
mechanism,  canals  carried  over  deep  valleys  and  through  the 
bosoms  of  hills :  employment  and  existence  thus  given  to  innu- 
merable families,  and  the  multiplied  comforts  and  conveniences 
of  life  diffused  over  the  whole  community. 

]\rR.    ESCOT. 

You  present  to  me  a  complicated  picture  of  artificial  life,  and 
require  me  to  admire  it.  Seas  covered  with  vessels :  every  one 
of  which  contains  two  or  three  tyrants,  and  from  fifty  to  a  thou- 
sand slaves,  ignorant,  gross,  perverted,  and  active  only  in  mis- 


42  HEADLONG  HALL.  [chap.  vii. 

chief.  Ports  resounding  with  life :  in  other  words,  with  noise  and 
drunkenness,  the  mingled  din  of  avarice,  intemperance,  and  pros- 
titution. Profound  researches,  scientific  inventions  :  to  what  end  1 
To  contract  the  sum  of  human  wants  ?  to  teach  the  art  of  living 
on  a  little  ?  to  disseminate  independence,  liberty,  and  health  ? 
No ;  to  multiply  factitious  desires,  to  stimulate  depraved  appetites, 
to  invent  unnatural  wants,  to  heap  up  incense  on  the  shrine  of 
luxury,  and  accumulate  expedients  of  selfish  and  ruinous  profu- 
sion. Complicated  machinery :  behold  its  blessings.  Twenty 
years  ago,  at  the  door  of  every  cottage  sate  the  good  woman  with 
her  spinning-wheel :  the  children,  if  not  more  profitably  employed 
than  in  gathering  heath  and  sticks,  at  least  laid  in  a  stock  of 
health  and  strength  to  sustain  the  labours  of  maturer  years. 
Where  is  the  spinning-wheel  now,  and  every  simple  and  insulated 
occupation  of  the  industrious  cottager  ?  Wherever  this  boasted 
machinery  is  establislied,  the  children  of  the  poor  are  death- 
doomed  from  their  cradles.  Look  for  one  moment  at  midnight 
into  a  cotton-mill,  amidst  the  smell  of  oil,  the  smoke  of  lamps, 
the  rattling  of  wheels,  the  dizzy  and  complicated  motions  of  dia- 
bolical mechanism :  contemplate  the  little  human  machines  that 
keep  play  with  the  revolutions  of  the  iron  work,  robbed  at  that 
hour  of  their  natural  rest,  as  of  air  and  exercise  by  day  :  observe 
their  pale  and  ghastly  features,  more  ghastly  in  that  baleful  and 
malignant  light,  and  tell  me  if  you  do  not  fancy  yourself  on  the 
threshold  of  Virgil's  hell,  where 

Continub  audit^e  voces,  vagitus  et  ingens, 
Infantvmque  anhncE  fientes,  in  limine  primo, 
Quos  dulcis  vitce  exsortes,  et  ab  ubere  raptos, 
AhsiuUt  air  a  dies,  et  fuxere  mersit  acerbo  ! 

As  Mr.  Escot  said  this,  a  little  rosy-checked  girl,  with  a  basket 
of  heath  on  her  head,  came  tripping  down  the  side  of  one  of  the 
rocks  on  the  left.  The  force  of  contrast  struck  even  on  the 
phlegmatic  spirit  of  Mr.  Jenkison,  and  he  almost  inclined  for  a 
moment  to  the  doctrine  of  deterioration.     Mr.  Escot  continued : 

"  Nor  is  the  lot  of  the  parents  more  enviable.  Sedentary  vic- 
tims of  unhealthy  toil,  they  have  neither  the  corporeal  energy  of 
the  savage,  nor  the  mental  acquisitions  of  the  civilised  man. 
]\Ihid,  indeed,  they  have  none,  and  scarcely  animal  life.     They 


CHAP.  VII.]  THE  WALK.  43 

are  mere  automata,  component  parts  of  the  enormous  machines 
which  administer  to  the  pampered  appetites  of  the  few,  who  con- 
sider themselves  the  most  valuable  portion  of  a  state,  because  they 
consume  in  indolence  the  fruits  of  the  earth,  and  contribute  no- 
thing to  the  benefit  of  the  community. 

MR.    JENKISON. 

That  these  are  evils  cannot  be  denied  ;  but  they  have  their 
counterbalancing  advantages.  That  a  man  should  pass  the  day 
in  a  furnace  and  the  night  in  a  cellar,  is  bad  for  the  individual, 
but  good  for  others  who  enjoy  the  benefit  of  his  labour. 

MR.    ESCOT. 

By  what  right  do  they  so  ? 

BIR.    JENKISON. 

By  the  right  of  all  property  and  all  possession  :  Jc  droit  du  pkia 
fort. 

MR.    ESCOT. 

Do  you  justify  that  principle  ? 

MR.    JENKISON. 

I  neither  justify  nor  condemn  it.  It  is  practically  recognised 
in  all  societies ;  and,  though  it  is  certainly  the  source  of  enormous 
evil,  I  conceive  it  is  also  the  source  of  abundant  good,  or  it  would 
not  have  so  many  supporters. 

MR.    ESCOT. 

That  is  by  no  means  a  consequence.  Do  v/e  not  every  day 
see  men  supporting  the  most  enormous  evils,  which  they  know  to 
be  so  with  respect  to  others,  and  which  in  reality  are  so  with  re- 
spect to  themselves,  though  an  erroneous  view  of  their  own  miser- 
able  self-interest  induces  them  to  think  otherwise  ? 

MR.    JENKISON. 

Good  and  evil  exist  only  as  they  are  perceived.  I  cannot  there- 
fore understand,  how  that  which  a  man  perceives  to  be  good  can 
be  in  reality  an  evil  to  him  :  indeed,  the  word  reality  only  signifies 
strong  belief, 

MR.    ESCOT. 

The  views  of  such  a  man  I  contend  are  false.  If  he  could  be 
made  to  see  the  truth 


44  HEADLONG  HALL.  [chap.  vii. 

MR.    JENKISON. 

He  sees  his  own  truth.  Truth  is  that  which  a  man  troweih. 
Where  there  is  no  man  there  is  no  truth.  Thus  the  truth  of  one 
is  not  the  truth  of  another.* 

MR.    ESCOT. 

I  am  aware  of  the  etymology  ;  but  I  contend  that  there  is  an 
universal  and  immutable  truth,  deducible  from  the  nature  of 
things. 

MR.    JENKISON. 

By  whom  deducible  ?  Philosophers  have  investigated  the  na- 
ture of  things  for  centuries,  yet  no  two  of  them  will  agree  in  trow- 
ing the  same  conclusion. 

MR.    FOSTER. 

The  progress  of  philosophical  investigation,  and  the  rapidly  in- 
creasing accuracy  of  human  knowledge,  approximate  by  degrees 
the  diversities  of  opinion ;  so  that,  in  process  of  time,  moral  science 
will  be  susceptible  of  mathematical  demonstration  ;  and,  clear 
and  indisputable  principles  being  universally  recognised,  the  coin- 
cidence of  deduction  will  necessarily  follow. 

MR.    ESCOT. 

Possibly,  when  the  inroads  of  luxury  and  disease  shall  have 
exterminated  nine  hundred  and  ninety-nine  thousand  nine  hundred 
and  ninety-nine  of  every  million  of  the  human  race,  the  remain- 
ing fractional  units  may  congregate  into  one  point,  and  come  to 
something  like  the  same  conclusion. 

MR.    JENKISON. 

I  doubt  it  much.  I  conceive,  if  only  we  three  were  survivors 
of  the  whole  system  of  terrestrial  being,  we  should  never  agree 
in  our  decisions  as  to  the  cause  of  the  calamity. 

MR.    ESCOT. 

Be  that  as  it  may,  I  think  you  must  at  least  assent  to  the  fol- 
lowing positions  :  that  the  many  are  sacrificed  to  the  few  ;  that 
ninety-nine  in  a  hundred  are  occupied  in  a  perpetual  struggle  for 
the  preservation  of  a  perilous  and  precarious  existence,  while  the 
remaining  one  wallows  in  all  the  redundancies  of  luxury  that  can 

*  Tooke's  Diversions  of  Parley. 


CHAP,  vii.]  THE  WALK.  45 

be  wrung  from  their  labours  and  privations ;  that  luxury  and  lib- 
erty are  incompatible  ;  and  that  every  new  want  you  invent  for 
civilised  man  is  a  new  instrument  of  torture  for  him  who  cannot 
indulge  it. 

They  had  now  regained  the  shores  of  the  lake,  when  the  con- 
versation was  suddenly  interrupted  by  a  tremendous  explosion, 
followed  by  a  violent  splashing  of  water,  and  various  sounds  of 
tumult  and  confusion,  which  induced  them  to  quicken  their  pace 
towards  the  spot  whence  they  proceeded. 


46  HEADLONG  HALL.  [chap,  viii 


CHAPTER  Vm. 


THE    TOWER. 


In  all  the  thoughts,  v/ords,  and  actions  of  Squire  Headlong, 
there  was  a  remarkable  alacrity  of  progression,  which  almost  an- 
nihilated the  interval  between  conception  and  execution.  He  was 
utterly  regardless  of  obstacles,  and  seemed  to  have  expunged  their 
very  name  from  his  vocabulary.  His  designs  were  never  nipped 
in  their  infancy  by  the  contemplation  of  those  trivial  difficulties 
which  often  turn  awry  the  current  of  enterprise  ;  and,  though  the 
rapidity  of  his  movements  was  sometimes  arrested  by  a  more 
formidable  barrier,  either  naturally  existing  in  the  pursuit  he  had 
undertaken,  or  created  by  bis  own  impetuosity,  he  seldom  failed 
to  succeed  either  in  knocking  it  down  or  cutting  his  way  through 
it.  He  had  little  idea  of  gradation  :  he  saw  no  interval  between 
the  first  step  and  the  last,  but  pounced  upon  his  object  with  the 
impetus  of  a  mountain  cataract.  This  rapidity  of  movement,  in- 
deed,  subjected  him  to  some  disasters  v/hich  cooler  spirits  would 
have  escaped.  He  was  an  excellent  sportsman,  and  almost  always 
killed  his  game  ;  but  now  and  then  he  killed  his  dog.*  Rocks, 
streams,  hedges,  gates,  and  ditches,  were  objects  of  no  account 
in  his  estimation  ;  though  a  dislocated  shoulder,  several  severe 
bruises^  and  two  or  three  narrow  escapes  for  his  neck,  might  have 
been  expected  to  teach  him  a  certain  degree  of  caution  in  effecting 
his  transitions.    He  was  so  singularly  alert  in  climbing  precipices 

*  Some  readers  will,  perhaps,  recollect  the  Archbishop  of  Prague,  who  also 
was  an  excellent  sportsman,  and  who, 

Com'  era  scrilto  in  certi  suoi  giornali, 
Uccso  avea  con  le  sue  proprie  mani 
Un  numero  infinito  d'animali : 
Cinquemila  con  quindici  fagiani, 
Seimila  lepri,  ottantatr^  cignali, 
£  per  disgrazia,  aucor  tredici  cani,  &c. 


CHAP,  viii.]  THE  TOWER.  47 

and  traversing  torrents,  that,  when  he  went  out  on  a  shooting  party, 
he  was  very  soon  left  to  continue  his  sport  alone,  for  he  was  sure 
to  dash  up  or  down  some  nearly  perpendicular  path,  where  no  one 
else  had  either  ability  or  inclination  to  follow.  He  had  a  pleasure 
boat  on  the  lake,  which  he  steered  with  amazing  dexterity  ;  but 
as  he  always  indulged  himself  in  the  utmost  possible  latitude  of 
sail,  he  was  occasionally  upset  by  a  sudden  gust,  and  was  indebted 
to  his  skill  in  the  art  of  swimming  for  the  opportunity  of  tempering 
with  a  copious  libation  of  wine  the  unnatural  frigidity  introduced 
into  his  stomach  by  the  extraordinary  intrusion  of  water,  an  ele- 
ment which  he  had  religiously  determined  should  never  pass  his 
lips,  but  of  which,  on  these  occasions,  he  was  sometimes  compelled 
to  swallow  no  inconsiderable  quantity.  This  circumstance  alone, 
of  the  various  disasters  that  befel  him,  occasioned  him  any  per- 
manent affliction,  and  he  accordingly  noted  the  day  in  his  pocket 
book  as  a  dies  nefastus,  with  this  simple  abstract,  and  brief  chron- 
icle of  the  calamity  :  Mem.  Swallowed  two  or  three  pints  of 
water  :  without  any  notice  whatever  of  the  concomitant  circum- 
stances. These  days,  of  v/hich  there  were  several,  were  set  apart 
in  Headlong  Hall  for  the  purpose  of  anniversary  expiation  ;  and, 
as  often  as  the  day  returned  on  v/hich  the  squire  had  swallowed 
water,  he  not  only  made  a  point  of  swallowing  a  treble  allowance 
of  wine  himself,  but  imposed  a  heavy  mulct  on  every  one  of  his 
servants  who  should  be  detected  in  a  state  of  sobriety  after  sunset : 
but  their  conduct  on  these  occasions  was  so  uniformly  exemplary, 
that  no  instance  of  the  infliction  of  the  penalty  appears  on  record. 
The  squire  and  Mr.  IMilestone,  as  we  have  already  said,  had 
set  out  immediately  after  breakfast  to  examine  the  capabilities  of 
the  scenery.  The  object  that  most  attracted  Mr.  Milestone's  ad- 
miration was  a  ruined  tower  on  a  pr9Jecting  point  of  rock,  almost 
totally  overgrown  with  ivy.  This  ivy,  Mr.  Milestone  observed, 
required  trimming  and  clearing  in  various  parts :  a  little  pointing 
and  polishing  was  also  necessary  for  the  dilapidated  walls :  and 
the  whole  eftect  would  be  materially  increased  by  a  plantation  of 
spruce  fir,  interspersed  with  cypress  and  juniper,  the  present  rug- 
ged and  broken  ascent  from  the  land  side  being  first  converted 
into  a  beautiful  slope,  which  might  be  easily  efiected  by  blowing 
up  a  part  of  the  rock  with  gunpowder,  laying  on  a  quantity  of 
fine  mould,  and  covering  the  whole  with  an  elegant  stratum  of  turf. 


48  HEADLONG  HALL.  [chap.  viii. 

Squire  Headlong  caught  with  avidity  at  this  suggestion ;  and, 
as  he  had  always  a  store  of  gunpo^vtler  in  the  house,  for  the  ac- 
commodation of  himself  and  his  shooting  visitors,  and  for  the  sup- 
ply of  a  small  battery  of  cannon,  which  he  kept  for  his  private 
ainuserrient,  he  insisted  on  commencing  operations  immediately. 
Accordingly,  he  bounded  back  to  the  house,  and  very  speedily  re- 
turned, accompanied  by  the  little  butler,  and  half  a  dozen  ser- 
vants and  labourers,  with  pickaxes  and  gunpowder,  a  hanging 
stove  and  a  poker,  together  with  a  basket  of  cold  meat  and  two  or 
three  bottles  of  Madeira  :  for  the  Squire  thought,  with  many  others, 
that  a  copious  supply  of  provision  is  a  very  necessary  ingredient 
in  all  rural  amusements. 

Mr.  Milestone  superintended  the  proceedings.  The  rock  was 
excavated,  the  powder  introduced,  the  apertures  strongly  block- 
aded with  fragments  of  stone  :  a  long  train  was  laid  to  a  spot 
which  Mr.  Milestone  fixed  on  as  sufficiently  remote  from  the  pos- 
sibility of  harm  :  the  Squire  seized  the  poker,  and,  after  flourish- 
ing it  in  the  air  with  a  degree  of  dexterity  which  induced  the  rest 
of  the  party  to  leave  him  in  solitary  possession  of  an  extensive  cir- 
cumference, applied  the  end  of  it  to  the  train  ;  and  the  rapidly 
communicated  ignition  ran  hissing  along  the  surface  of  the  soil. 

At  this  critical  moment,  Mr.  Cranium  and  Mr.  Panscope  ap- 
peared at  the  top  of  the  tower,  which,  unseeing  and  unseen,  they 
had  ascended  on  the  opposite  side  to  that  where  the  Squire  and 
Mr.  Milestone  were  conducting  their  operations.  Their  sudden 
appearance  a  little  dismayed  the  Squire,  who,  however,  comforted 
himself  with  the  reflection,  that  the  tower  was  perfectly  safe,  or 
at  least  was  intended  to  be  so,  and  that  his  friends  were  in  no 
probable  danger  but  of  a  knock  on  the  head  from  a  flying  frag- 
ment of  stone. 

The  succession  of  these  thoughts  in  the  mind  of  the  Squire  was 
commensurate  in  rapidity  to  the  progress  of  the  ignition,  v/hich 
having  reached  its  extremity,  the  explosion  took  place,  and  the 
shattered  rock  was  hurled  into  the  air  in  the  midst  of  fire  and 
smoke. 

Mr.  Milestone  had  properly  calculated  the  force  of  the  explo- 
sion ;  for  the  tower  remained  untouched  :  but  the  Squire,  in  his 
consolatory  reflections,  had  omitted  the  consideration  of  the  influ- 
ence of  sudden  fear,  which  had  so  violent  an  effect  on  Mr.  Cra- 


CHAP,  vin.]  THE  TOWER.  49 

nium,  who  was  just  commencing  a  speech  concerning  the  very 
fme  prospect  from  the  top  of  the  tower,  that,  cutting  short  the 
thread  of  his  observations,  he  bounded,  under  the  elastic  influence 
of  terror,  several  feet  into  the  air.  His  ascent  being  unluckily  a 
little  out  of  the  perpendicular,  he  descended  with  a  proportionate 
curve  from  the  apex  of  his  projection,  and  alighted,  not  on  the 
wall  of  the  tower,  but  in  an  ivy-bush  by  its  side,  which,  giving 
way  beneath  him,  transferred  him  to  a  tuft  of  hazel  at  its  base, 
which,  after  upholding  him  an  instant,  consigned  him  to  the 
boughs  of  an  ash  that  had  rooted  itself  in  a  fissure  about  half  way 
down  the  rock,  which  finally  transmitted  him  to  the  waters  below. 

Squire  Headlong  anxiously  watched  the  tower  as  the  smoke 
which  at  first  enveloped  it  rolled  away ;  but  when  this  shadowy 
curtain  was  withdrawn,  and  Mr.  Panscope  was  discovered,  solus, 
in  a  tragical  attitude,  his  apprehensions  became  boundless,  and 
he  concluded  that  the  unlucky  collision  of  a  flying  frao;ment  of 
rock  had  indeed  emancipated  the  spirit  of  the  craniologist  from  its 
terrestrial  bondage. 

Mr.  Escot  had  considerably  outstripped  his  companions,  and  ar- 
rived at  the  scene  of  the  disaster  just  as  Mr.  Cranium,  being  ut- 
terly destitute  of  natatorial  skill,  was  in  imminent  danger  of  final 
submersion.  The  deteriorationist,  who  had  cultivated  this  valua- 
ble art  with  great  success,  immediately  plunged  in  to  his  assist- 
ance, and  brought  him  alive  and  in  safety  to  a  shelving  part  of 
the  shore.  Their  landing  was  hailed  with  a  vievz-holla  from  the 
delighted  Squire,  who,  shaking  them  both  heartily  by  the  hand, 
and  making  ten  thousand  lame  apologies  to  Mr.  Cranium,  con- 
cluded by  asking,  in  a  pathetic  tone,  Hoiu  much  water  he  had 
swallowed  ?  and  without  waiting  for  his  answer,  filled  a  large 
tumbler  with  Madeira,  and  insisted  on  his  tossing  it  off",  which 
was  no  sooner  said  than  done.  Mr.  Jenkison  and  Mr.  Foster  now 
made  their  appearance.  Mr.  Panscope  descended  the  tower, 
which  he  vowed  never  again  to  approach  within  a  quarter  of  a 
nr.ile.  The  tumbler  of  Madeira  was  replenished,  and  handed 
yound  to  recruit  the  spirits  of  the  party,  which  now  began  to  move 
towards  Headlong  Hall,  the  Squire  capering  for  joy  in  the  van, 
and  the  little  fat  butler  waddling  in  the  rear. 

The  Squire  took  care  that  Mr.  Cranium  should  be  seated  next 
to  him  at  dinner,  and  plied  him  so  hard  with  Madeira  to  prevent 

5 


50  HEADLONG  HALL.  [cha  .  vii> 

him,  as  he  said,  from  taking  cold,  that  long  before  the  ladies  sent 
in  their  summons  to  coffee,  every  organ  in  his  brain  was  in  a  com- 
plete state  of  revolution,  and  the  Squire  was  under  the  necessity 
of  ringing  for  three  or  four  servants  to  carry  him  to  bed,  observ- 
ing, with  a  smile  of  great  satisfaction,  that  he  was  in  a  very  ex- 
cellent way  for  escaping  any  ill  consequences  that  might  have 
resulted  from  his  accident. 

The  beautiful  Cephalis,  being  thus  freed  from  his  surveillance^ 
was  enabled,  during  the  course  of  the  evening,  to  develope  to  his 
preserver  the  full  extent  of  her  gratitude. 


CHAP.  IX.]  THE  SEXTON.  51 


CHAPTER  IX. 


THE    SEXTON. 


Mr.  Escot  passed  a  sleepless  night,  the  ordinary  effect  of  love, 
according  to  some  amatory  poets,  who  seem  to  have  composed 
their  whining  ditties  for  the  benevolent  purpose  of  bestowing  on 
others  that  gentle  slumber  of  which  they  so  pathetically  lament 
the  privation.  The  deteriorationist  entered  into  a  profound  moral 
soliloquy,  in  which  he  first  examined  whether  a  'philosopher  ought 
to  he  in  love  ?  Having  decided  this  point  affirmatively  against 
Plato  and  Lucretius,  he  next  examined,  whether  that  passion  ought 
to  have  the  effect  of  keeping  a  philosopher  awake  ?  Having  de- 
cided  this  negatively,  he  resolved  to  go  to  sleep  immediately  :  not 
being  able  to  accomplish  this  to  his  satisfaction,  he  tossed  and 
tumbled,  like  Achilles  or  Orlando,  first  on  one  side,  then  on  the 
other ;  repeated  to  himself  several  hundred  lines  of  poetry ; 
counted  a  thousand  ;  began  again,  and  counted  another  thousand  : 
in  vain  :  the  beautiful  Cephalis  was  the  predominant  image  in  all 
his  soliloquies,  in  all  his  repetitions  :  even  in  the  numerical  pro- 
cess from  which  he  sought  relief,  he  did  but  associate  the  idea  of 
number  with  that  of  his  dear  tormentor,  till  she  appeared  to  his 
mind's  eye  in  a  thousand  similitudes,  distinct,  not  different. 
These  thousand  images,  indeed,  were  but  one  ;  and  yet  the  one 
was  a  thousand,  a  sort  of  uni-multiplex  phantasma,  which  will  be 
very  intelligible  to  some  understandings. 

He  arose  with  the  first  peep  of  day,  and  sallied  forth  to  enjoy 
the  balmy  breeze  of  morning,  which  any  but  a  lover  might  have 
thought  too  cool  ;  for  it  was  an  intense  frost,  the  sun  had  not 
risen,  and  the  wind  was  rather  fresh  from  north-east  and  by  north. 
But  a  lover,  who,  like  Ladurlad  in  the  curse  of  Kehama,  always 
has,  or  at  least  is  supposed  to  have,  "  a  fire  in  his  heart  and  a 
fire  in  his  brain,"  feels  a  wintry  breeze  from  N.  E.  and  by  N. 
steal  over  his  cheek  like  the  south  over  a  bank  of  violets :  there- 


HEADLONG  HALL.  [chap.  ix. 


fore,  on  walked  the  philosopher,  with  his  coat  unbuttoned  and  his 
hat  in  his  hand,  careless  of  whither  he  went,  till  he  found  himself 
near  the  enclosure  of  a  little  mountain-chapel.  Passing  through 
the  wicket,  and  stepping  over  two  or  three  graves,  he  stood  on  a 
rustic  tombstone,  and  peeped  through  the  chapel  window,  examin- 
ing  the  interior  with  as  much  curiosity  as  if  he  had  "  forgotten 
what  the  inside  of  a  church  was  made  of,"  which,  it  is  rather  to 
be  feared,  was  the  case.  Before  him  and  beneath  him  were  the 
font,  the  altar,  and  the  grave  ;  which  gave  rise  to  a  train  of  moral 
reflections  on  the  three  great  epochs  in  the  course  of  the  feather- 
less  Inped, — birth,  marriage,  and  death.  The  middle  stage  of 
the  process  arrested  his  attention ;  and  his  imagination  placed 
before  him  several  figures,  which  he  thought,  vv^th  the  addition 
of  his  own,  would  make  a  very  picturesque  group ;  the  beautiful 
Cephalis,  "  arrayed  in  her  bridal  apparel  of  white  ;"  her  friend 
Caprioletta  officiating  as  bridemaid ;  Mr.  Cranium  giving  her 
away  ;  and  last,  not  least,  the  Reverend  Doctor  Gaster,  intoning 
the  marriage  ceremony  with  the  regular  orthodox  allowance  of 
nasal  recitative.  Whilst  he  was  feasting  his  eyes  on  this  ima- 
ginary picture,  the  demon  of  mistrust  insinuated  himself  into  the 
storehouse  of  his  conceptions,  and,  removing  his  figure  from  the 
group,  substituted  that  of  Mr.  Panscope,  which  gave  such  a  vio- 
lent shock  to  his  feelings,  that  he  suddenly  exclaimed,  with  an 
extraordinary  elevation  of  voice,  Otjuoi  KaKoSatjicov,  Km  rpn  KaKoSatnoiv,  km 
TCTpaKis,  Kai  nevTUKis,  Kui  SuSsKaKi?,  /cat  jxvpiaKu  !*  to  the  great  tcrror  of  the 
sexton,  who  was  just  entering  the  churchyard,  and,  not  knowing 
from  whence  the  voice  proceeded,  pensa  que  fut  un  diahleteau. 
The  sight  of  the  philosopher  dispelled  his  apprehensions,  when, 
growing  suddenly  valiant,  he  immediately  addressed  him : — 

"  Cot  pless  your  honour,  I  should  n't  have  thought  of  meeting 
any  pody  here  at  this  time  of  the  morning,  except,  look  you,  it 
was  the  tevil — who,  to  pe  sure,  toes  not  often  come  upon  conse- 
crated cround — put  for  all  that,  I  think  I  have  seen  him  now  and 
then,  in  former  tays,  when  old  Nanny  Llwyd  of  Llyn-isa  was 
living — Cot  teliver  us !  a  terriple  old  witch  to  pe  sure  she  was — 
I  tid  n't  much  like  tigging  her  crave — put  I  prought  two  cocks 

*  Me  miserable  !  and  thrice  miserable  !  and  four  times,  and  five  times,  aii4 
twelve  times,  and  ten  thousand  times  miserable  ! 


CHAP.  IX.]  THE  SEXTON.  53 

with  me — the  tevil  hates  cocks — and  tied  them  py  the  leg  on  two 
tombstones — and  I  tug,  and  the  cocks  crowed,  and  the  tevil  kept 
at  a  tistance.  To  pe  sure  now,  if  I  had  n't  peen  very  prave  py 
nature — as  I  ought  to  pe  truly — for  my  father  was  Owen  Ap- 
Llwyd  Ap-Gryffydd  Ap-Shenkin  Ap- Williams  Ap-Thomas  Ap- 
Morgan  Ap-Parry  Ap-Evan  Ap-Rhys,  a  coot  preacher  and  a 
lover  of  cwno* — I  should  have  thought  just  now  pefore  I  saw  your 
honour,  that  the  foice  I  heard  was  the  tevil's  calling  Nanny 
Llwyd — Cot  pless  us !  to  pe  sure  she  should  have  been  puried  in 
the  middle  of  the  river,  where  the  tevil  can't  come,  as  your  hon- 
our fery  well  knows." 

*'I  am  perfectly  aware  of  it,"  said  Mr.  Escot. 

"  True,  true,"  continued  the  sexton ;  "  put  to  pe  sure,  Owen 
Thomas  of  Morfa-Bach  will  have  it  that  one  summer  evening — 
when  he  went  over  to  Cwm  Cynfael  in  Meirionnydd,  apout  some 
catties  he  wanted  to  puy — he  saw  a  strange  figure — pless  us ! — 
with  five  horns ! — Cot  save  us  !  sitting  on  Hugh  Llwyd 's  pulpit, 
which,  your  honour  fery  well  knows,  is  a  pig  rock  in  the  middle 
of  the  river " 

"  Of  course  he  was  mistaken,"  said  Mr.  Escot. 

"  To  pe  sure  he  was,"  said  the  sexton.  "  For  there  is  no  toubt 
put  the  tevil,  when  Owen  Thomas  saw  him,  must  have  peen  sit- 
ting on  a  piece  of  rock  in  a  straight  line  from  him  on  the  other 
side  of  the  river,  wliere  he  used  to  sit,  look  you,  for  a  whole  sum- 
mer's tay,  while  Hugh  Llwyd  was  on  his  pulpit,  and  there  they 
used  to  talk  across  the  water !  for  Hugh  Llwyd,  please  your  hon- 
our, never  raised  the  tevil  except  when  he  was  safe  in  the  middle 
of  the  river,  which  proves  that  Owen  Thomas,  in  his  fright,  did  n't 
pay  proper  attention  to  the  exact  spot  where  the  tevil  was." 

The  sexton  concluded  his  speech  with  an  approving  smile  at 
his  own  sagacity,  in  so  luminously  expounding  the  nature  of 
Owen  Thomas's  mistake. 

"  I  perceive,"  said  Mr.  Escot,  "  you  have  a  very  deep  insight 
into  things,  and  can,  therefore,  perhaps,  facilitate  the  resolution 
of  a  question,  concerning  which,  though  I  have  little  doubt  on  the 
subject,  I  am  desirous  of  obtaining  the  most  extensive  and  accurate 
information." 

*  Pronounced  cooroo — the  Welsh  word  for  ale. 


54  HEADLONG  HALL.  [chap,  ix 

The  sexton  scratched  his  head,  the  language  of  Mr.  Escot  not 
being  to  his  apprehension  quite  so  luminous  as  his  own. 

"  You  have  been  sexton  here,"  continued  Mr.  Escot,  in  the 
language  of  Hamlet,  "  man  and  boy,  forty  years." 

The  sexton  turned  pale.  The  period  Mr.  Escot  named  was  so 
nearly  the  true  one,  that  he  began  to  suspect  the  personage  before 
him  of  being  rather  too  familiar  with  Hugh  Llwyd's  sable  visitor. 
Recovering  himself  a  little,  he  said,  "  Why,  thereapouts,  sure 
enough." 

"  During  this  period,  you  have  of  course  dug  up  many  bones 
of  the  people  of  ancient  times." 

"  Pones  !  Cot  pless  you,  yes  !  pones  as  old  as  the  'orlt." 

"  Perhaps  you  can  show  me  a  few.'' 

The  sexton  grinned  horribly  a  ghastly  smile.  "  Will  you  take 
your  Pible  oath  you  ton't  want  them  to  raise  the  tevil  with  ?" 

"  Willingly,"  said  Mr.  Escot,  smiling ;  "  I  have  an  abstruse 
reason  for  the  inquiry." 

"  Why,  if  you  have  an  obtuse  reason,"  said  the  sexton,  who 
thought  this  a  good  opportunity  to  show  that  he  could  pronounce 
hard  words  as  well  as  other  people ;  "if  you  have  an  obtuse  rea- 
son, that  alters  the  case." 

So  saying  he  led  the  way  to  the  bone-house,  from  which  he  be- 
gan to  throw  out  various  bones  and  skulls  of  more  than  common 
dimensions,  and  amongst  them  a  skull  of  very  extraordinary 
magnitude,  which  he  swore  by  St.  David  was  the  skull  of  Cad- 
wallader. 

"  How  do  you  know  this  to  be  his  skull  ?"  said  Mr.  Escot. 

"  He  was  the  piggest  man  that  ever  lived,  and  he  Avas  puried 
here  ;  and  this  is  the  piggest  skull  I  ever  found  :  you  see  now " 

"  Nothing  can  be  more  logical,"  said  Mr.  Escot.  "  My  good 
friend,  will  you  allow  me  to  take  this  skull  away  with  me  ?" 

"  St.  Winifred  pless  us  !"  exclaimed  the  sexton  :  "  would  you 
have  me  haunted  py  his  chost  for  taking  his  plessed  pones  out  of 
consecrated  cround  ?  Would  you  have  him  come  in  the  tead  of 
the  night,  and  fly  away  with  the  roof  of  my  house  ?  Would  you 
have  all  the  crop  of  my  carden  come  to  nothing  ?  for,  look  you, 
his  epitaph  says, 

**6c  tl)at  mn  poncB  sl}aU  ill  pestoto, 
£eek  in  Ijis  rrounb  sljall  ntvcx  crotu." 


CHAP.  IX.]  THE  SEXTON.  55 

"  You  will  ill  bestow  them,"  said  Mr.  Escot,  "  in  confounding 
them  with  those  of  the  sons  of  little  men,  the  degenerate  dwarfs 
of  later  generations :  you  will  well  bestow  them  in  giving  them 
to  me ;  for  I  will  have  this  illustrious  skull  bound  with  a  silver 
rim,  and  filled  with  mantling  wine,  with  this  inscription,  nunc 
TANDEM :  signifying  that  that  pernicious  liquor  has  at  length 
found  its  proper  receptacle ;  for,  when  the  wine  is  in,  the  brain  is 
out." 

Saying  these  words,  he  put  a  dollar  into  the  hands  of  the  sex- 
ton, who  instantly  stood  spell-bound  by  the  talismanic  influence 
of  the  coin,  while  Mr.  Escot  walked  off  in  triumph  with  the  skull 
of  Cadwallader. 


56  HEADLONG  HALL.  [chap.  X 


CHAPTER  X. 


THE    SKULL. 


When  Mr.  Escot  entered  the  breakfast-room  he  found  the  ma- 
jority of  the  party  assembled,  and  the  little  butler  very  active  at 
his  station.  Several  of  the  ladies  shrieked  at  the  sight  of  the 
skull ;  and  Miss  Tenorina,  starting  up  in  great  haste  and  terror, 
caused  the  subversion  of  a  cup  of  chocolate,  which  a  servant  was 
handing  to  the  Reverend  Doctor  Gaster,  into  the  nape  of  the  neck 
of  Sir  Patrick  O'Prism..  Sir  Patrick,  rising  impetuously,  to  clap 
an  extinguisher,  as  he  expressed  himself,  on  iJie  farthing  rushlight 
of  the  rascal's  life,  pushed  over  the  chair  of  Marmaduke  Mile- 
stone, Esquire,  who,  catching  for  support  at  the  first  thing  that 
came  in  his  way,  v/hich  happened  unluckily  to  be  the  corner  of 
the  table-cloth,  drew  it  instantaneously  with  him  to  the  floor,  in- 
volving plates,  cups  and  saucers,  in  one  promiscuous  ruin.  But, 
as  the  principal  materiel  of  the  breakfast  apparatus  was  on  the 
little  butler's  side-table,  the  confusion  occasioned  by  this  accident 
was  happily  greater  than  the  damage.  Miss  Tenorina  was  so 
agitated  that  she  was  obliged  to  retire :  Miss  Graziosa  accom- 
panied her  through  pure  sisterly  affection  and  sympathy,  not 
without  a  lingering  look  at  Sir  Patrick,  who  likewise  retired  to 
change  his  coat,  but  was  very  expeditious  in  returning  to  resume 
his  attack  on  the  cold  partridge.  The  broken  cups  were  cleared 
av.-ay,  the  cloth  relaid,  and  the  array  of  the  table  restored  with 
wonderful  celerity. 

Mr.  Escot  was  a  little  surprised  at  the  scene  of  confusion 
which  signalised  his  entrance  ;  but,  perfectly  unconscious  that  it 
originated  with  the  skull  of  Cadwallader,  he  advanced  to  seat 
himself  at  the  table  by  the  side  of  the  beautiful  Cephalis,  first 
placing  the  skull  in  a  corner,  out  of  the  reach  of  Mr.  Cranium, 
who  sate  eyeing  it  with  lively  curiosity,  and  after  several  efforts 


CHAP.  X.]  THE  SKULL.  57 

to  restrain  his  impatience,  exclaimed,  "  You  seem  to  have  found 
a  rarity." 

"A  rarity  indeed,"  said  Mr.  Escot,  cracking  an  egg  as  he 
spoke  ;  "  no  less  than  the  genuine  and  indubitable  skull  of  Cad- 
wallader." 

''  The  skull  of  Cadwallader  !"  vociferated  Mr.  Cranium  :  "  O 
treasure  of  treasures  !" 

Mr.  Escot  then  detailed  by  what  means  he  had  become  pos- 
sessed  of  it,  which  gave  birth  to  various  remarks  from  the  other 
individuals  of  the  party  :  after  which,  rising  from  table,  and 
taking  the  skull  again  in  his  hand, 

"  This  skull,"  said  he,  "  is  the  skull  of  a  hero,  iraXai  Kararte- 
vfitcjroy,*  and  sufficiently  demonstrates  a  point,  concerning  which 
I  never  myself  entertained  a  doubt,  that  the  human  race  is 
undergoing  a  gradual  process  of  diminution  in  length,  breadth, 
and  thickness.  Observe  this  skull.  Even  the  skull  of  our  rev- 
erend friend,  which  is  the  largest  and  thickest  in  the  company, 
is  not  more  than  half  its  size.  The  frame  this  skull  belonged  to 
could  scarcely  have  been  less  than  nine  feet  high.  Such  is  the 
lamentable  progress  of  degeneracy  and  decay.  In  the  course  of 
ages,  a  boot  of  the  present  generation  would  form  an  ample 
chateau  for  a  large  family  of  our  remote  posterity.  The  mind, 
too,  participates  in  the  contraction  of  the  body.  Poets  and  philos- 
ophers of  all  ages  and  nations  have  lamented  this  too  visible  pro- 
cess of  physical  and  moral  deterioration.  '  The  sons  of  little 
men,'  says  Ossian.  'Owl  wv  Pporoi  £.«:«»',  says  Homer :  '  such 
men  as  live  in  these  degenerate  days.'  '  All  things,'  says  Vir- 
gilj'l'  '  have  a  retrocessive  tendency,  and  grow  worse  and  worse 
by  the  inevitable  doom  of  fate.'  '  We  live  in  the  ninth  age,'  says 
Juvenaljij:  '  an  age  worse  than  the  age  of  iron ;  nature  has  no 
metal  sufficiently  pernicious  to  give  a  denomination  to  its  wicked- 
ness.' '  Our  fathers,'  says  Horace, §  '  worse  than  our  grand- 
fathers, have  given  birth  to  us,  their  more  vicious  progeny,  who, 
in  our  turn,  shall  become  the  parents  of  a  still  viler  generation.' 
You  all  know  the  fable  of  the  buried  Pict,  who  bit  off  the  end  of 
a  pickaxe,  with  which  sacrilegious  hands  were  breaking  open  his 

*  Long  since  dead.  t  Georg.  I.  199.  t  Sat.  XIII.  28. 

§  Carra.  III.  6.  46. 


68  HEADLONG  HALL.  [chap.  x. 

grave,  and  called  out  with  a  voice  like  subterranean  thunder,  / 
perceive  the  degeneracy  of  your  race  by  the  smallness  of  your  little 
finger  !  videlicet,  the  pickaxe.  This,  to  be  sure,  is  a  fiction  ;  but 
it  shows  the  prevalent  opinion,  the  feeling,  the  conviction,  of  abso- 
lute, universal,  irremediable  deterioration." 

"  I  should  be  sorry,"  said  Mr.  Foster,  "  that  such  an  opinion 
should  become  universal,  independently  of  my  conviction  of  its 
fallacy.  Its  general  admission  would  tend,  in  a  great  measure, 
to  produce  the  very  evils  it  appears  to  lament.  What  could  be 
its  effect,  but  to  check  the  ardour  of  investigation,  to  extinguish 
the  zeal  of  philanthropy,  to  freeze  the  current  of  enterprising 
hope,  to  bury  in  the  torpor  of  scepticism  and  in  the  stagna- 
tion of  despair,  every  better  faculty  of  the  human  mind,  which 
will  necessarily  become  retrograde  in  ceasing  to  be  progres- 
sive ?" 

"  I  am  inclined  to  think,  on  the  contrary,"  said  Mr.  Escot, 
"  that  the  deterioration  of  man  is  accelerated  by  his  blindness — 
in  many  respects  wilful  blindness — to  the  truth  of  the  fact  itself, 
and  to  the  causes  which  produce  it ;  that  there  is  no  hope  what- 
ever of  ameliorating  his  condition  but  in  a  total  and  radical 
change  of  the  whole  scheme  of  human  life,  and  that  the  advocates 
of  his  indefinite  perfectibility  are  in  reality  the  greatest  enemies 
to  the  practical  possibility  of  their  own  system,  by  so  strenuously 
labouring  to  impress  on  his  attention  that  he  is  going  on  in  a  good 
way,  while  he  is  really  in  a  deplorably  bad  one." 

"  I  admit,"  said  Mr.  Foster,  "  there  are  many  things  that  may, 
and  therefore  will,  be  changed  for  the  better." 

"  Not  on  the  present  system,"  said  Mr.  Escot,  "  in  which  every 
change  is  for  the  worse." 

''  In  matters  of  taste  I  am  sure  it  is,"  said  Mr.  Gall :  "there 
is,  in  fact,  no  such  thing  as  good  taste  left  in  the  world." 

"  O,  Mr.  Gall !"  said  Miss  Philomela  Poppyseed,  "  I  thought 
my  novel " 

"  My  paintings,"  said  Sir  Patrick  O'Prism 

"  My  ode,"  said  Mr.  Mac  Laurel 


"  My  ballad,"  said  Mr.  Nightshade- 


"  My  plan  for  Lord  Littlebrain's  park,"  said  Marmaduke  Mile- 
stone, Esquire 

"  My  essay,"  said  Mr.  Treacle 


CHAP.  X.]  THE  SKULL.  59 

"  My  sonata,"  said  Mr.  Chromatic 

"  My  claret,"  said  Squire  Headlong 

"  My  lectures,"  said  Mr.  Cranium- 


"  Vanity  of  vanities,"  said  the  Reverend  Doctor  Gaster,  turn- 
ing down  an  empty  egg-shell ;  "all  is  vanity  and  vexation  of 
spirit." 


CO  HEADLONG  HALL.  [chap,  m, 


I 


CHAPTER  XL 


THE    ANNIVERSARY. 


Among  the  dies  alba  cretd  notandos,  which  the  beau  monde  of 
the  Cambrian  mountains  was  in  the  habit  of  remembering  with  the 
greatest  pleasure,  and  anticipating  with  the  most  lively  satisfac- 
tion, was  the  Christmas  ball  which  the  ancient  family  of  the 
Headlongs  had  been  accustomed  to  give  from  time  immemorial. 
Tradition  attributed  the  honour  of  its  foundation  to  Headlong  Ap- 
Headlong  Ap-Breakneck  Ap-Headlong  Ap-Cataract  Ap-Pistyll* 
Ap-Rhaidr  Ap-Headlong,  who  lived  about  the  time  of  the  Trojan 
war.  Certain  it  is,  at  least,  that  a  grand  chorus  was  always 
sung  after  supper  in  honour  of  this  illustrious  ancestor  of  the 
squire.  This  ball  was,  indeed,  an  era  in  the  lives  of  all  the 
beauty  and  fashion  of  Caernarvon,  Meirionnydd,  and  Anglesea, 
and,  like  the  Greek  Olympiads  and  the  Roman  consulates,  served 
as  the  main  pillar  of  memory,  round  which  all  the  events  of  the 
year  were  suspended  and  entwined.  Thus,  in  recalling  to  mind 
any  circumstance  imperfectly  recollected,  the  principal  point  to 
be  ascertained  was,  whether  it  had  occurred  in  the  year  of  the 
first,  second,  third,  or  fourth  ball  of  Headlong  Ap-Breakneck,  or 
Headlong  Ap-Torrent,  or  Headlong  Ap-Hurricane  ;  and,  this  be- 
ing satisfactorily  established,  the  remainder  followed  of  course  in 
the  natural  order  of  its  ancient  association. 

This  eventful  anniversary  being  arrived,  every  chariot,  coach, 
barouche,  and  barouchette,  landau  and  landaulet,  chaise,  curricle, 
buggy,  whiskey,  and  tilbury,  of  the  three  counties,  was  in  motion  : 
not  a  horse  was  left  idle  within  five  miles  of  any  gentleman's 
seat,  from  the  high-mettled  hunter  to  the  heath-cropping  galloway. 
The  ferrymen  of  the  Menai  were  at  their  stations  before  day- 
break, taking  a  double  allowance  of  rum  and  cwrw  to  strengthen 

*  Pistyll,  in  Welch,  signifies  a  cataract,  and  Rhaidr  a  cascade 


CHAP.  XI.]  THE  ANNIVERSARY.  61 

them  for  the  fatigues  of  the  day.  The  ivied  towers  of  Caernar- 
von,  the  romantic  woods  of  Tan-y-bwlcli,  the  heathy  hills  of  Ker- 
nioggau,  the  sandy  shores  of  Tremadoc,  the  mountain  recesses  of 
Bedd-Gelert,  and  the  lonely  lakes  of  Capel-Cerig,  re-echoed  to  the 
voices  of  the  delighted  ostlers  and  postillions,  who  reaped  on  this 
happy  day  their  wintry  harvest.  Landlords  and  landladies, 
waiters,  chambermaids,  and  toll-gate  keepers,  roused  themselves 
from  the  torpidity  which  the  last  solitary  tourist,  flying  with  the 
yellow  leaves  on  the  wings  of  the  autumnal  wind,  had  left  them 
to  enjoy  till  the  returning  spring :  the  bustle  of  August  was  re- 
newed on  all  the  mountain  roads,  and,  in  the  meanwhile.  Squire 
Headlong  and  his  little  fat  butler  carried  most  energetically  into 
effect  the  lessons  of  the  savant  in  the  Court  of  Quintessence,  qui 
par  engin  mirijicque  jectoit  les  maisons  par  les  fenestres .^^ 

It  was  the  custom  for  the  guests  to  assemble  at  dinner  on  the 
day  of  the  ball,  and  depart  on  the  following  morning  after  break- 
fast.  Sleep  during  this  interval  was  out  of  the  question  :  the 
ancient  harp  of  Cambria  suspended  the  celebration  of  the  noble 
race  of  Shenkin,  and  the  songs  of  Hoel  and  Cyveilioc,  to  ring  to 
the  profaner  but  more  lively  modulation  of  Vaulez  vous  danser, 
Mademoiselle  ?  in  conjunction  with  the  symphonious  scraping  of 
fiddles,  the  tinkling  of  triangles,  and  the  beating  of  tambourines. 
Comus  and  Momus  were  the  deities  of  the  night ;  and  Bacchus 
of  course  was  not  forgotten  by  the  male  part  of  the  assembly 
(with  them,  indeed,  a  ball  was  invariably  a  scene  of  "  tipsy  dance 
and  jollity^ ^) :  the  servants  flew  about  with  wine  and  negus,  and 
the  little  butler  was  indefatigable  with  his  cork-screw,  which  is 
reported  on  one  occasion  to  have  grown  so  hot  under  the  influence 
of  perpetual  friction  that  it  actually  set  fire  to  the  cork. 

The  company  assembled.  The  dinner,  which  on  this  occasion 
was  a  secondary  object,  was  despatched  with  uncommon  celerity. 
When  the  cloth  was  removed,  and  the  bottle  had  taken  its  first 
round,  Mr.  Cranium  stood  up  and  addressed  the  company. 

"  Ladies  and  gentlemen,"  said  he,  "  the  golden  key  of  mental 
pheenomena,  which  has  lain  buried  for  ages  in  the  deepest  vein 
of  the  mine  of  physiological  research,  is  now,  by  a  happy  combi- 
nation of  practical  and  speculative  investigations,  grasped,  if  I 

*  Rabelais. 


62  HEADLONG  HALL.  [chap.  xi. 

may  so  express  myself,  firmly  and  inexcussibly,  in  the  hands  of 
physiognomical  empiricism."  The  Cambrian  visitors  listened 
with  profound  attention,  not  comprehending  a  single  syllable  he 
said,  but  concluding  he  would  finish  his  speech  by  proposing  the 
health  of  Squire  Headlong.  The  gentlemen  accordingly  tossed 
off  their  heeltaps,  and  Mr.  Cranium  proceeded  :  "  Ardently  de- 
sirous, to  the  extent  of  my  feeble  capacity,  of  disseminating,  as 
much  as  possible,  the  inexhaustible  treasures  to  which  this  golden 
key  admits  the  humblest  votary  of  pjiilosophical  truth,  I  invite 
you,  when  you  have  sufHciently  restored,  replenished,  refreshed, 
and  exhilarated  that  osteosarchsematosplanchnochondroneuromuel- 
ous,  or  to  employ  a  more  intelligible  term,  osseocarnisanguineo- 
viscericartilaginonervomedullary,  compages,  or  shell,  the  body, 
which  at  once  envelopes  and  developes  that  mysterious  and  inesti- 
mable kernel,  the  desiderative,  determinative,  ratiocinative,  imagi- 
native, inquisitive,  appetitive,  comparative,  reminiscent,  congeries 
of  ideas  and  notions,  simple  and  compound,  comprised  in  the  com- 
prehensive denomination  of  mind,  to  take  a  peep  with  me  into 
the  mechanical  arcana  of  the  anatomico-metaphysical  universe. 
Being  not  in  the  least  dubitative  of  your  spontaneous  compliance, 
I  proceed,"  added  he,  suddenly  changing  his  tone,  "  to  get  every 
thing  ready  in  the  library."     Saying  these  words,  he  vanished. 

The  Welsh  squires  now  imagined  they  had  caught  a  glimpse 
of  his  meaning,  and  set  him  down  in  their  minds  for  a  sort  of 
gentleman  conjuror,  who  intended  to  amuse  them  before  the  ball 
with  some  tricks  of  legerdemain.  Under  this  impression,  they 
became  very  impatient  to  follow  him,  as  they  had  made  up  their 
minds  not  to  be  drunk  before  supper.  The  ladies,  too,  were  extreme- 
ly curious  to  witness  an  exhibition  which  had  been  announced  in  so 
singular  a  preamble  ;  and  the  squire,  having  previously  insisted 
on  every  gentleman  tossing  ofT  a  half-pint  bumper,  adjourned  the 
whole  party  to  the  library,  where  they  were  not  a  little  surprised 
to  discover  Mr.  Cranium  seated,  in  a  pensive  attitude,  at  a  large 
table,  decorated  with  a  copious  variety  of  skulls. 

Some  of  the  ladies  were  so  much  shocked  at  this  extraordinary 
display,  that  a  scene  of  great  confusion  ensued.  Fans  were  very 
actively  exercised,  and  water  was  strenuously  called  for  by  some 
of  the  most  officious  of  the  gentlemen ;  on  which  the  little  butler 
entered  with  a  large  allowance  of  liquid,  which  bore,  indeed,  the 


CHAP,  xi.]  THE  ANNIVERSARY.  C3 

name  of  water,  but  was  in  reality  a  very  powerful  spirit.  This 
Avas  the  only  species  of  water  which  the  little  butler  had  ever 
heard  called  for  in  Headlong  Hall.  The  mistake  was  not  at- 
tended with  any  evil  efTecis  :  for  the  fluid  was  no  sooner  applied 
to  the  lips  of  the  fainting  fair  ones,  than  it  resuscitated  them  with 
an  expedition  truly  miraculous. 

Order  was  at  length  restored ;  the  audience  took  their  seats ; 
and  the  craniological  orator  held  forth  in  the  following  terms : — 


64  HEADLONG  HALL. 


CHAPTER    XII. 

THE    LECTURE. 

*'  Physiologists  have  been  much  puzzled  to  account  for  the 
varieties  of  moral  character  in  men,  as  well  as  for  the  remarka- 
ble similarity  of  habit  and  disposition  in  all  the  individual  animals 
of  every  other  respective  species.  A  few  brief  sentences,  per- 
spicuously worded,  and  scientifically  arranged,  will  enumerate 
all  the  characteristics  of  a  lion,  or  a  tiger,  or  a  wolf,  or  a  bear, 
or  a  squirrel,  or  a  goat,  or  a  horse,  or  an  ass,  or  a  rat,  or  a  cat, 
or  a  hog,  or  a  dog  ;  and  whatever  is  physiologically  predicated 
of  any  individual  lion,  tiger,  wolf,  bear,  squirrel,  goat,  horse,  ass, 
hog,  or  dog,  will  be  found  to  hold  ti'ue  of  all  lions,  tigers,  wolves, 
bears,  squirrels,  goats,  horses,  asses,  hogs,  and  dogs,  whatsoever. 
Now,  in  man,  the  very  reverse  of  this  appears  to  be  the  case  ; 
for  he  has  so  few  distinct  and  characteristic  marks  which  hold 
true  of  all  his  species,  that  philosophers  in  all  ages  have  found  it 
a  task  of  infinite  difficulty  to  give  him  a  definition.  Hence  one 
has  defined  him  to  be  a  featherless  Mped,  a  definition  Avhich  is 
equally  applicable  to  an  unfledged  fowl :  another,  to  be  an  ani- 
mal which  forms  opiniojis,  than  which  nothing  can  be  more  inac- 
curate, for  a  very  small  number  of  the  species  form  opinions, 
and  the  remainder  take  them  upon  trust,  without  investigation  or 
inquiry. 

"  Again,  man  has  been  defined  to  be  an  animal  that  carries  a 
stick :  an  attribute  which  undoubtedly  belongs  to  man  only,  but 
not  to  all  men  always ;  though  it  uniformly  characterises  some 
of  the  graver  and  more  imposing  varieties,  such  as  physicians, 
oran-outangs,  and  lords  in  waiting. 

"  We  cannot  define  man  to  be  a  reasoning  animal,  for  we  do 
not  dispute  that  idiots  are  men  ;  to  say  nothing  of  that  very  nu- 
merous description  of  persons  who  consider  themselves  reasoning 
animals,  and  are  so  denominated  by  the  ironical  courtesy  of  the 


THE  LECTURE.  65 


world,  who  labour,  nevertheless,  under  a  very  gross  delusion  in 
that  essential  particular. 

•'  It  appears  to  me,  that  man  may  be  correctly  defined  an  ani- 
mal, which,  without  any  peculiar  or  distinguishing  faculty  of  its 
own,  is,  as  it  were,  a  bundle  or  compound  of  faculties  of  other 
animals,  by  a  distinct  enumeration  of  which  any  individual  of  the 
species  may  be  satisfactorily  described.  This  is  manifest,  even 
in  the  ordinary  language  of  conversation,  when,  in  summing  up, 
for  example,  the  qualities  of  an  accomplished  courtier,  we  say  he 
has  the  vanity  of  a  peacock,  the  cunning  of  a  fox,  the  treachery 
of  an  hyasna,  the  cold-heartedness  of  a  cat,  and  the  servility  of  a 
jackall.  That  this  is  perfectly  consentaneous  to  scientific  truth, 
will  appear  in  the  further  progress  of  these  observations. 

"  Every  particular  faculty  of  the  mind  has  its  corresponding 
organ  in  the  brain.  In  proportion  as  any  particular  faculty  or 
propensity  acquires  paramount  activity  in  any  individual,  these 
organs  develope  themselves,  and  their  developement  becomes  ex- 
ternally obvious  by  corresponding  lumps  and  bumps,  exuberances 
and  protuberances,  on  the  osseous  compages  of  the  occiput  and 
sinciput.  In  all  animals  but  man,  the  same  organ  is  equally  de- 
veloped in  every  individual  of  the  species  :  for  instance,  that  of 
migration  in  the  swallow,  that  of  destruction  in  the  tiger,  that  of 
architecture  in  the  beaver,  and  that  of  parental  affection  in  the  bear. 
The  human  brain,  however,  consists,  as  I  have  said,  of  a  bundle 
or  compound  of  all  the  faculties  of  all  other  animals ;  and  from 
the  greater  developement  of  one  or  more  of  these,  in  the  infinite 
varieties  of  combination,  result  all  the  peculiarities  of  individual 
character. 

"  Here  is  the  skull  of  a  beaver,  and  that  of  Sir  Christopher 
Wren.  You  observe,  in  both  these  specimens,  the  prodigious  de- 
velopement of  the  organ  of  constructiveness. 

"  Here  is  the  skull  of  a  bullfinch,  and  that  of  an  eminent 
fiddler.     You  may  compare  the  organ  of  music. 

"  Here  is  the  skull  of  a  tiger.  You  observe  the  organ  of  car- 
nage. Here  is  the  skull  of  a  fox.  You  observe  the  organ  of 
plunder.  Here  is  the  skull  of  a  peacock.  You  observe  the  or- 
gan of  vanity.  Here  is  the  skull  of  an  illustrious  robber,  who, 
after  a  long  and  triumphant  process  of  depredation  and  murder, 
was  suddenly  checked  in  his  career  by  means  of  a  certain  quali- 

6 


66  HEADLONG  HALL.  [chap.  xii. 

ty  inherent  in  preparations  of  hemp,  which,  for  the  sake  of  per- 
spicuity, I  shall  call  suspensiveness.  Here  is  the  skull  of  a  con- 
queror, who,  after  over-running  several  kingdoms,  burning  a 
number  of  cities,  and  causing  the  deaths  of  two  or  three  millions 
of  men,  women,  and  children,  was  entombed  with  all  the  pagean- 
try of  public  lamentation,  and  figured  as  the  hero  of  several  thou- 
sand odes  and  a  round  dozen  of  epics  ;  while  the  poor  highway- 
man was  twice  executed — 

"  At  the  gallows  first,  and  after  in  a  ballad, 
Sung  to  a  villanous  tune." 

You  observe,  in  both  these  skulls,  the  combined  developement  of 
the  organs  of  carnage,  plunder,  and  vanity,  which  I  have  sepa- 
rately pointed  out  in  the  tiger,  the  fox,  and  the  peacock.  The 
greater  enlargement  of  the  organ  of  vanity  in  the  hero  is  the  only 
criterion  by  which  I  can  distinguish  them  from  each  other.  Born 
with  the  same  faculties,  and  the  same  propensities,  these  two  men 
were  formed  by  nature  to  run  the  same  career  :  the  different  com- 
binations of  external  circumstances  decided  the  differences  of  their 
destinies. 

"  Here  is  the  skull  of  a  Newfoundland  dog.  You  observe  the 
organ  of  benevolence,  and  that  of  attachment.  Here  is  a  human 
skull,  in  which  you  may  observe  a  very  striking  negation  of  both 
these  organs ;  and  an  equally  striking  developement  of  those  of 
destruction,  cunning,  avarice,  and  self-love.  This  was  one  of  the 
most  illustrious  statesmen  that  ever  flourished  in  the  page  of  history. 

"  Here  is  the  skull  of  a  turnspit,  which,  after  a  wretched  life 
of  dirty  work,  was  turned  out  of  doors  to  die  on  a  dunghill.  I 
have  been  induced  to  preserve  it,  in  consequence  of  its  remark- 
able similarity  to  this,  which  belonged  to  a  courtly  poet,  who 
having  grown  grey  in  flattering  the  great,  was  cast  off  in  the 
same  manner  to  perish  by  the  same  catastrophe." 

After  these,  and  several  other  illustrations,  during  which  the 
skulls  were  handed  round  for  the  inspection  of  the  company,  Mr. 
Cranium  proceeded  thus  : — 

"  It  is  obvious,  from  what  I  have  said,  that  no  man  can  hope 
for  worldly  honour  or  advancement,  who  is  not  placed  in  such  a 
relation  to  external  circumstances  as  may  be  consentaneous  to  his 
peculiar  cerebral  organs ;  and  I  would  advise  every  parent,  who 


CHAP,  xii.]  THE  LECTURE.  67 

has  the  welfare  of  his  son  at  heart,  to  procure  as  extensive  a  col- 
lection as  possible  of  the  skulls  of  animals,  and,  before  determin- 
ing on  the  choice  of  a  profession,  to  compare  with  the  utmost 
nicety  their  bumps  and  protuberances  with  those  of  the  skull  of 
his  son.  If  the  developement  of  the  organ  of  destruction  point 
out  a  similiarity  between  the  youth  and  the  tiger,  let  him  be 
brought  to  some  profession  (whether  that  of  a  butcher,  a  soldier, 
or  a  physician,  may  be  regulated  by  circumstances)  in  which  he 
may  be  furnished  with  a  licence  to  kill :  as,  without  such  licence, 
the  indulgence  of  his  natural  propensity  may  lead  to  the  untimely 
rescission  of  his  vital  thread,  '  with  edge  of  penny  cord  and  vile  re- 
proach.' If  he  show  an  analogy  with  the  jackal,  let  all  possible 
influence  be  used  to  procure  him  a  place  at  court,  where  he  will 
infallibly  thrive.  If  his  skull  bear  a  marked  resemblance  to  that 
of  a  magpie,  it  cannot  be  doubted  that  he  will  prove  an  admirable 
lawyer  ;  and  if  with  this  advantageous  conformation  be  combined 
any  similitude  to  that  of  an  owl,  very  confident  hopes  may  be 
formed  of  his  becoming  a  judge." 

A  furious  flourish  of  music  was  now  heard  from  the  ball-room, 
the  squire  having  secretly  despatched  the  little  butler  to  order  it 
to  strike  up,  by  way  of  a  hint  to  Mr.  Cranium  to  finish  his  har- 
angue. The  company  took  the  hint  and  adjourned  tumultuously, 
having  just  understood  as  much  of  the  lecture  as  furnished  them 
with  amusement  for  the  ensuing  twelvemonth,  in  feeling  the  skulls 
of  all  their  acquaintance. 


68  HEADLONG  HALL.  [chap.  xiii. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


THE    BALL. 


The  ball-room  \yas  adorned  with  great  taste  and  elegance, 
under  the  direction  of  Miss  Caprioletta  and  her  friend  Miss  Ce- 
phalis,  who  were  themselves  its  most  beautiful  ornaments,  even 
though  romantic  Meirion,  the  pre-eminent  in  loveliness,  sent  many 
of  its  loveliest  daughters  to  grace  the  festive  scene.  Numberless 
were  the  solicitations  of  the  dazzled  swains  of  Cambria  for  the 
honour  of  the  two  first  dances  with  the  one  or  the  other  of  these 
fascinating  friends ;  but  little  availed,  on  this  occasion,  the  pedi- 
gree lineally  traced  from  Caractacus  or  King  Arthur:  their  two 
philosophical  lovers,  neither  of  whom  could  have  given  the  least 
account  of  his  great-great-grandfather,  had  engaged  them  many 
days  before.  Mr.  Panscope  chafed  and  fretted  like  Llugwy  in 
his  bed  of  rocks,  when  the  object  of  his  adoration  stood  up  with 
his  rival :  but  he  consoled  himself  with  a  lively  damsel  from  the 
vale  of  Edeirnion,  having  first  compelled  Miss  Cephalis  to  promise 
him  her  hand  for  the  fourth  set. 

The  ball  was  accordingly  opened  by  Miss  Caprioletta  and  Mr. 
Foster,  which  gave  rise  to  much  speculation  among  the  Welsh 
gentry,  as  to  who  this  Mr.  Foster  could  be ;  some  of  the  more 
learned  among  them  secretly  resolving  to  investigate  most  pro- 
foundly the  antiquity  of  the  name  of  Foster,  and  ascertain  what 
right  a  person  so  denominated  could  have  to  open  the  most  illus- 
trious of  all  possible  balls  with  the  lovely  Caprioletta  Headlong, 
the  only  sister  of  Harry  Headlong,  Esquire,  of  Headlong  Hall,  in 
the  Vale  of  Llanberris,  the  only  surviving  male  representative  of 
the  antediluvian  family  of  Headlong  Ap-Rhaiader. 

When  the  two  first  dances  were  ended,  Mr.  Escot,  who  did  not 
choose  to  dance  with  any  one  but  his  adorable  Cephalis,  looking 
round  for  a  convenient  seat,  discovered  Mr.  Jenkison  in  a  corner 
by  the  side  of  the   Reverend  Doctor  Gaster,  who  was  keeping 


THE  BALL. 


excellent  time  with  his  nose  to  the  lively  melody  of  the  harp  and 
fiddle.  Mr.  Escot  seated  himself  by  the  side  of  Mr.  Jenkison,  and 
inquired  if  he  took  no  part  in  the  amusement  of  the  night  ? 

MR.    JENKISON. 

No.  The  universal  cheerfulness  of  the  company  induces  me 
to  rise  :  the  trouble  of  sucJi  violent  exercise  induces  me  to  sit  still. 
Did  I  see  a  young  lady  in  want  of  a  partner,  gallantry  would 
incite  me  to  offer  myself  as  her  devoted  knight  for  half  an  hour : 
but  as  I  perceive  there  are  enough  without  me,  that  motive  is 
null.  I  have  been  v/eighing  these  points  pro  and  con,  and  remain 
in  statu  quo. 

MR.    ESCOT. 

I  have  danced  contrary  to  my  system,  as  I  have  done  many 
other  things  since  I  have  been  here,  from  a  motive  that  you  will 
easily  guess.  (Mr.  Jenkison  smiled.)  I  have  great  objections  to 
dancing.  The  wild  and  original  man  is  a  calm  and  contempla- 
tive animal.  The  stings  of  natural  appetite  alone  rouse  him  to 
action.  He  satisfies  his  hunger  with  roots  and  fruits,  unvitiated 
by  the  malignant  adhibition  of  fire,  and  all  its  diabolical  processes 
of  elixion  and  assation :  he  slakes  his  thirst  in  the  mountain- 
stream,  (rvjJiiKiycrai  ry  cinTvxovji;!^  and  rctums  to  his  pcaccful  statc  of 
meditative  repose. 

MR.    JENKISON. 

Like  the  metaphysical  statue  of  Condillac. 

MR.    ESCOT. 

With  all  its  senses  and  purely  natural  faculties  developed,  cer- 
tainly. Imagine  this  tranquil  and  passionless  being,  occupied  in 
his  first  meditation  on  the  simple  question  of  Where  am  I?  Whence 
do  I  come  ?  And  what  is  the  end  of  my  existence  ?  Then  sud- 
denly place  before  him  a  chandelier,  a  fiddler,  and  a  magnificent 
beau  in  silk  stockings  and  pumps,  bounding,  skipping,  swinging, 
capering,  and  throwing  himself  into  ten  thousand  attitudes,  till  his 
face  glows  with  fever,  and  distils  with  perspiration :  the  first  im- 
pulse  excited  in  his  mind  by  such  an  apparition  will  be  that  of 
violent  fear,  which,  by  the  reiterated  perception  of  its  harmless- 
ness,  will  subside  into  simple  astonishment.  Then  let  any  genius, 
sufficiently  powerful  to  impress  on  his  mind  all  the  terms  of  the 
communication,  impart  to  him,  that  after  a  long  process  of  ages, 


70  HEADLONG  HALL.  [chap.  xiu. 

when  his  race  shall  have  attained  what  some  people  think  proper 
to  denominate  a  very  advanced  stage  of  perfectibility,  the  most 
favoured  and  distinguished  of  the  community  shall  meet  by  hun- 
dreds, to  grin,  and  labour,  and  gesticulate,  like  the  phantasma, 
before  him,  from  sunset  to  sunrise,  while  all  nature  is  at  rest,  and 
that  they  shall  consider  this  a  happy  and  pleasurable  mode  of  exist- 
ence, and  furnishing  the  most  delightful  of  all  possible  contrasts 
to  what  they  will  call  his  vegetative  state :  would  he  not  groan 
from  his  inmost  soul  for  the  lamentable  condition  of  his  posterity  ? 

MR.    JENKISON. 

I  know  not  what  your  wild  and  original  man  might  think  of 
the  matter  in  the  abstract ;  but  comparatively,  I  conceive,  he 
would  be  better  pleased  with  the  vision  of  such  a  scene  as  this, 
than  with  that  of  a  party  of  Indians  (who  would  have  all  the  ad- 
vantage of  being  nearly  as  wild  as  himself),  dancing  their  infer- 
nal war-dance  round  a  midnight  fire  in  a  North  American  forest. 

MR.    ESCOT. 

Not  if  you  should  impart  to  him  the  true  nature  of  both,  by 
laying  open  to  his  view  the  springs  of  action  in  both  parties. 

MR.   JENKISON. 

To  do  this  with  effect,  you  must  make  him  a  profound  meta- 
physician, and  thus  transfer  him  at  once  from  his  wild  and  origi- 
nal state  to  a  very  advanced  stage  of  intellectual  progression ; 
whether  that  progression  be  towards  good  or  evil,  I  leave  you  and 
our  friend  Foster  to  settle  between  you. 

MR.    ESCOT. 

I  wish  to  make  no  change  in  his  habits  and  feelings,  but  to  give 
him,  hypothetically,  so  much  mental  illumination,  as  will  enable 
him  to  take  a  clear  view  of  two  distinct  stages  of  the  deterioration 
of  his  posterity,  that  he  may  be  enabled  to  compare  them  with 
each  other,  and  with  his  own  more  happy  condition.  The  Indian, 
dancing  round  the  midnight  fire,  is  very  far  deteriorated  ;  but  the 
magnificent  beau,  dancing  to  the  light  of  chandeliers,  is  infinitely 
more  so.  The  Indian  is  a  hunter :  he  makes  great  use  of  fire, 
and  subsists  almost  entirely  on  animal  food.  Th©  malevolent 
passions  that  spring  from  these  pernicious  habits  involve  him  in 
perpetual  war.     He  is,  therefore,  necessitated,  for  his  own  pres- 


CHAP.  XIII.]  THE  BALL.  71 

ervation,  to  keep  all  the  energies  of  his  nature  in  constant  ac- 
tivity :  to  this  end  his  midnight  war.dance  is  very  powerfully  sub- 
servient, and,  though  in  itself  a  frightful  spectacle,  is  at  least 
justifiable  on  the  iron  plea  of  necessity. 

MR.   JENKISON. 

On  the  same  iron  plea,  the  modern  system  of  dancing  is  more 
justifiable.  The  Indian  dances  to  prepare  himself  for  killing  his 
enemy  :  but  while  the  beaux  and  belles  of  our  assemblies  dance, 
they  are  in  the  very  act  of  killing  theirs — time  ! — a  more  invete- 
rate and  formidable  foe  than  any  the  Indian  has  to  contend  with ; 
for,  however  completely  and  ingeniously  killed,  he  is  sure  to  rise 
again,  "  with  twenty  mortal  murders  on  his  crown,"  leading  his 
army  of  blue  devils,  with  ennui  in  the  van,  and  vapours  in  the 
rear. 

MR.    ESCOT. 

Your  observation  militates  on  my  side  of  the  question  ;  and  it 
is  a  strong  argument  in  favour  of  the  Indian,  that  he  has  no  such 
enemy  to  kill. 

MR.    JENKISON. 

There  is  certainly  a  great  deal  to  be  said  against  dancing  : 
there  is  also  a  great  deal  to  be  said  in  its  favour.  The  first  side 
of  the  question  I  leave  for  the  present  to  you  :  on  the  latter,  I  may 
venture  to  allege  that  no  amusement  seems  more  natural  and 
more  congenial  to  youth  than  this.  It  has  the  advantage  of  bring- 
ing young  persons  of  both  sexes  together,  in  a  manner  which  its 
publicity  renders  perfectly  unexceptionable,  enabling  them  to  see 
and  know  each  other  better  than,  perhaps,  any  other  mode  of 
general  association.  Tete-d-tetes  are  dangerous  things.  Small 
family  parties  are  too  much  under  mutual  observation.  A  ball- 
room appears  to  me  almost  the  only  scene  uniting  that  degree  of 
rational  and  innocent  liberty  of  intercourse,  which  it  is  desirable 
to  promote  as  much  as  possible  between  young  persons,  with  that 
scrupulous  attention  to  the  delicacy  and  propriety  of  female  con- 
duct, which  I  consider  the  fundamental  basis  of  all  our  most  valu- 
able social  relations. 

MR.    ESCOT. 

There  would  be  some  plausibility  in  your  argument,  if  it  were 
not  the  very  essence  of  this  species  of  intercourse  to  exhibit  them 


72  HEADLONG  HALL.  [chap,  xm, 

to  each  other  under  false  colours.     Here  all  is  show,  and  varnish, 

and  hypocrisy,  and  coquetry  ;  they  dress  up  their  moral  charac- 
ter for  the  evening  at  the  same  toilet  where  they  manufacture 
their  shapes  and  faces.  Ill-temper  lies  buried  under  a  studied 
accumulation  of  smiles.  Envy,  hatred,  and  malice,  retreat  from 
the  countenance,  to  entrench  themselves  more  deeply  in  the  heart. 
Treachery  lurks  under  the  flowers  of  courtesy.  Ignorance  and 
folly  take  refuge  in  that  unmeaning  gabble  which  it  would  be 
profanation  to  call  language,  and  which  even  those  whom  long 
experience  in  "  the  dreary  intercourse  of  daily  life  "  has  screwed 
up  to  such  a  pitch  of  stoical  endurance  that  they  can  listen  to  it 
by  the  hour,  have  branded  with  the  ignominious  appellation  of 
"  small  talk.''  Small  indeed  ! — the  absolute  minimum  of  the  in- 
finitely little. 

MR.    JENKISON. 

Go  on.  I  have  said  all  I  intended  to  say  on  the  favourable 
side.  I  shall  have  great  pleasure  in  hearing  you  balance  the  ar- 
gument. 

MR.    ESCOT. 

I  expect  you  to  confess  that  I  shall  have  more  than  balanced 
it.  A  ball-room  is  an  epitome  of  all  that  is  most  worthless  and 
unamiable  in  the  great  sphere  of  human  life.  Every  petty  and 
malignant  passion  is  called  into  play.  Coquetry  is  perpetually 
on  the  alert  to  captivate,  caprice  to  mortify,  and  vanity  to  take 
offence.  One  amiable  female  is  rendered  miserable  for  the  even- 
ing by  seeing  another,  whom  she  intended  to  outshine,  in  a  more 
attractive  dress  than  her  own  ;  vrhile  the  other  omits  no  method 
of  giving  stings  to  her  triumph,  which  she  enjoys  with  all  the  se- 
cret arrogance  of  an  oriental  sultana.  Another  is  compelled  to 
dance  with  a  monster  she  abhors.  A  third  has  set  her  heart  on 
dancing  with  a  particular  partner,  perhaps  for  the  amiable  mo- 
tive of  annoying  one  of  her  dear  friends  :  not  only  he  does  not 
ask  her,  but  she  sees  him  dancing  with  that  identical  dear  friend, 
whom  from  that  moment  she  hates  more  cordially  than  ever. 
Perhaps,  what  is  worse  than  all,  she  has  set  her  heart  on  refusing 
some  impertinent  fop,  who  does  not  give  her  the  opportunity. — 
As  to  the  men,  the  case  is  very  nearly  the  same  with  them.  To 
be  sure,  they  have  the  privilege  of  making  the  first  advances,  and 


CHAP.  XIII.]  THE  BALL.  73 

are,  therefore,  less  liable  to  have  an  odious  partner  forced  upon 
them  ;  though  this  sometimes  happens,  as  I  know  by  woful  expe- 
rience  :  but  it  is  seldom  they  can  procure  the  very  partner  they 
prefer ;  and  when  they  do,  the  absurd  necessity  of  changing 
every  two  dances  forces  them  away,  and  leaves  them  only  the 
miserable  alternative  of  taking  up  with  something  disagreeable 
perhaps  in  itself,  and  at  all  events  rendered  so  by  contrast,  or  of 
retreating  into  some  solitary  corner,  to  vent  their  spleen  on  the 
first  idle  coxcomb  they  can  find. 

MR.    JENKISON. 

I  hope  that  is  not  the  motive  which  brings  you  to  me, 

MR.    ESCOT. 

Clearly  not.  But  the  most  afflicting  consideration  of  all  is,  that 
these  malignant  and  miserable  feelings  are  masked  under  that 
uniform  disguise  of  pretended  benevolence,  that  jine  and  deli- 
cate irony,  called  jpoliteness,  which  gives  so  much  ease  and  pli- 
ability to  the  mutual  intercourse  of  civilised  man,  and  enahles 
him  to  assume  the  appearance  of  every  virtue,  without  the  reality 
of  one* 

The  second  set  of  dances  was  now  terminated,  and  Mr.  Escot 
flew  oflfto  reclaim  the  hand  of  the  beautiful  Cephalis,  with  whom 
he  figured  away  with  surprising  alacrity,  and  probably  felt  at 
least  as  happy  among  the  chandeliers  and  silk  stockings,  at  which 
he  had  just  been  railing,  as  he  would  have  been  in  an  American 
forest,  making  one  in  an  Indian  ring,  by  the  light  of  a  blazing  fire, 
even  though  his  hand  had  been  locked  in  that  of  the  most  beauti- 
ful squaw  that  ever  listened  to  the  roar  of  Niagara. 

Squire  Headlong  was  now  beset  by  his  maiden  aunt,  Miss 
Brindle-mew  Grimalkin  Phoebe  Tabitha  Ap-Headlong,  on  one 
side,  and  Sir  Patrick  O'Prism  on  the  other ;  the  former  insisting 
that  he  should  immediately  procure  her  a  partner;  the  latter 
earnestly  requesting  the  same  interference  in  behalf  of  Miss 
Philomela  Poppyseed.  The  squire  thought  to  emancipate  him- 
self from  his  two  petitioners  by  making  them  dance  with  each 
other ;  but  Sir  Patrick  vehemently  pleading  a  prior  engagement, 

*  Rousseaa,  Discours  sur  les  Sciences. 


74  HEADLONG  HALL.  [chap.  xiii. 

the  squire  threw  his  eyes  around  till  they  alighted  on  Mr.  Jenki- 
son  and  the  Reverend  Doctor  Gaster ;  both  of  whom,  after  wa- 
king  the  latter,  he  pressed  into  the  service.  The  doctor,  arising 
with  a  strange  kind  of  guttural  sound,  which  was  half  a  yawn 
and  half  a  groan,  was  handed  by  the  officious  squire  to  Miss 
Philomela,  who  received  him  with  sullen  dignity  :  she  had  not  yet 
forgotten  his  falling  asleep  during  the  first  chapter  of  her  novel, 
while  she  was  condescending  to  detail  to  him  the  outlines  of  four 
superlative  volumes.  The  doctor,  on  his  part,  had  most  com- 
pletely forgotten  it ;  and  though  he  thought  there  was  something 
in  her  physiognomy  rather  more  forbidding  than  usual,  he  gave 
himself  no  concern  about  the  cause,  and  had  not  the  least  suspi- 
cion that  it  was  at  all  connected  with  himself.  Miss  Brindle- 
mew  was  very  well  contented  with  Mr.  Jenkinson,  and  gave  him 
two  or  three  ogles,  accompanied  by  a  most  risible  distortion  of  the 
countenance  which  she  intended  for  a  captivating  smile.  As  to 
Mr.  Jenkison,  it  was  all  one  to  him  with  whom  he  danced,  or 
whether  he  danced  or  not :  he  was  therefore  just  as  well  pleased 
as  if  he  had  been  left  alone  in  his  corner  ;  which  is  probably 
more  than  could  have  been  said  of  any  other  human  being  under 
similar  circumstances. 

At  the  end  of  the  third  set,  supper  was  announced ;  and  the 
party,  pairing  off  like  turtles,  adjourned  to  the  supper-room.  The 
squire  was  now  the  happiest  of  mortal  men,  and  the  little  butler 
the  most  laborious.  The  centre  of  the  largest  table  was  decorated 
with  a  model  of  Snowdon,  surmounted  with  an  enormous  artificial 
leek,  the  leaves  of  angelica,  and  the  bulb  of  blanc-mange.  A 
little  way  from  the  summit  was  a  tarn,  or  mountain-pool,  supplied 
through  concealed  tubes  with  an  inexhaustible  flow  of  milk- 
punch,  which,  dashing  in  cascades  down  the  miniature  rocks,  fell 
into  the  more  capacious  lake  below,  washing  the  mimic  founda- 
tions of  Headlong  Hall.  The  reverend  doctor  handed  Miss  Phi- 
lomela to  the  chair  most  conveniently  situated  for  enjoying  this 
interesting  scene,  protesting  he  had  never  before  been  sufficiently 
impressed  with  the  magnificence  of  that  mountain,  which  he  now 
perceived  to  be  well  worthy  of  all  the  fame  it  had  obtained. 

"  Now,  when  they  had  eaten  and  were  satisfied,"  Squire  Head- 
long called  on  Mr.  Chromatic  for  a  song  ;  who,  with  the  assist- 


CHAP,  xiil]  the  ball.  75 

ance  of  his  two  accomplished  daughters,  regaled  the  ears  of  the 
company  with  the  following 

TERZETTO* 

Grey  Twilight,  from  her  shadowy  hill, 

Discolours  Nature's  vernal  bloom, 
And  slieds  on  grove,  and  field,  and  rill, 

One  placid  tint  of  deepening  gloom. 

The  sailor  sighs  'mid  shoreless  seas, 

Touched  by  the  thought  of  friends  afar, 
As,  fanned  by  ocean's  flowing  breeze. 
He  gazes  on  the  western  star. 

The  wanderer  hears,  in  pensive  dream. 

The  accents  of  the  last  farewell, 
As,  pausing  by  the  mountain  stream. 

He  listens  to  the  evening  bell. 

This  terzetto  was  of  course  much  applauded ;  Mr.  Milestone 
observing,  that  he  thought  the  figure  in  the  last  verse  would  have 
been  more  picturesque,  if  it  had  been  represented  with  its  arms 
folded  and  its  back  against  a  tree ;  or  leaning  on  its  staff,  with  a 
cockle-shell  in  its  hat,  like  a  pilgrim  of  ancient  times. 

Mr.  Chromatic  professed  himself  astonished  that  a  gentleman 
of  genuine  modern  taste,  like  Mr.  Milestone,  should  consider  the 
words  of  a  song  of  any  consequence  whatever,  seeing  that  they 
were  at  the  best  only  a  species  of  pegs,  for  the  more  convenient 
suspension  of  crochets  and  quavers.  This  remark  drew  on  him 
a  very  severe  reprimand  from  Mr.  Mac  Laurel,  who  said  to  him, 
"  Dinna  ye  ken,  sir,  that  soond  is  a  thing  utterly  worthless  in  it- 
sel,  and  only  effectual  in  agreeable  excitements,  as  far  as  it  is  an 
aicho  to  sense  ?  Is  there  ony  soond  mair  meeserable  an'  peetifu' 
than  the  scrape  o'  a  feddle,  when  it  does  na  touch  ony  chord 
i'  the  human  sensorium  ?  Is  there  ony  mair  divine  than  the 
deep  note  o'  a  bagpipe,  when  it  breathes  the  auncient  meelodies  o' 
leeberty  an'  love  ?  It  is  true,  there  are  peculiar  trains  o'  feeling 
an'  sentiment,  which  parteecular  combinations  o'  meelody  are 
calculated  to  excite  ;  an'  sae  far  music  can  produce  its  effect 
without  words :  but  it  does  i^  follow,  that,  when  ye  put  words  to 

*  Imitated  from  a  passage  in  the  Purgatorio  of  Dante. 


76  HEADLONG  HALL.  [chap.  xiu. 

it,  it  becomes  a  matter  of  indefference  what  they  are  ;  for  a  gude 
strain  of  impassioned  poetry  will  greatly  increase  the  effect,  and 
a  tessue  o'  nonsensical  doggrel  will  destroy  it  a'  thegither.  Noo, 
as  gude  poetry  can  produce  its  effect  without  music,  sae  will 
gude  music  without  poetry ;  and  as  gude  music  will  be  mair 
pooerfu'  by  itsel'  than  wi'  bad  poetry,  sae  will  gude  poetry  than 
wi'  bad  music :  but,  when  ye  put  gude  music  an'  gude  poetry 
thegither,  ye  produce  the  divinest  compound  o'  sentimental  har- 
mony that  can  possibly  find  its  way  through  the  lug  to  the  saul." 

Mr.  Chromatic  admitted  that  there  was  much  justice  in  these 
observations,  but  still  maintained  the  subserviency  of  poetry  to 
music.  Mr.  Mac  Laurel  as  strenuously  maintained  the  con- 
trary ;  and  a  furious  war  of  words  was  proceeding  to  perilous 
lengths,  when  the  squire  interposed  his  authority  towards  the  re- 
production of  peace,  which  was  forthwith  concluded,  and  all  ani- 
mosities drowned  in  a  libation  of  milk-punch,  the  Reverend  Doc- 
tor Gaster  officiating  as  high  priest  on  the  occasion. 

Mr.  Chromatic  now  requested  Miss  Caprioletta  to  favour  the 
company  with  an  air.  The  young  lady  immediately  complied, 
and  sung  the  following  simple 

BALLAD. 

"  O  Mary,  my  sister,  thy  sorrow  give  o'er, 
I  soon  shall  return,  girl,  and  leave  thee  no  more : 
But  with  children  so  fair,  and  a  husband  so  kind, 
I  shall  feel  less  regret  when  I  leave  thee  behind. 

"  I  have  made  thee  a  bench  for  the  door  of  thy  cot, 
And  more  would  I  give  thee,  but  more  I  have  not : 
Sit  and  think  of  me  there,  in  the  warm  summer  day, 
And  give  me  three  kisses,  my  labour  to  pay." 

She  gave  him  three  kisses,  and  forth  did  he  fare, 
And  long  did  he  wander,  and  no  one  knew  where ; 
And  long  from  her  cottage,  through  sunshine  and  rain, 
She  watched  liis  return,  but  he  came  not  again 

Her  children  grew  up,  and  her  husband  grew  grey  ; 
She  sate  on  the  bench  through  the  long  sunomer  day, 
One  evening,  when  twilight  was  deep  on  the  shore. 
There  came  an  old  soldier,  and  stood  by  the  door. 

In  English  he  spoke,  and  none  knew  what  he  said. 
But  her  oatcake  and  milk  on  the  table  she  spread ; 


CHAP,  xin.]  THE  BALL.  77 

Then  he  sate  to  his  supper,  and  blithely  he  sung, 

And  she  knew  the  dear  sounds  of  her  own  native  tongue : 

"  O  rich  are  the  feasts  in  the  Englishman's  hall, 
And  the  wine  sparkles  bright  in  the  goblets  of  Gaul : 
But  their  mingled  attractions  I  well  could  withsand. 
For  the  milk  and  the  oatcake  of  Meirion's  dear  land." 

"  And  art  thou  a  Welchman,  old  soldier?"  she  cried. 

"  Many  years  have  I  wandered,"  the  stranger  replied : 

"  'Twixt  Danube  and  Thames  many  rivers  there  be. 

But  the  bright  waves  of  Cynfael  are  fairest  to  me. 

"  I  felled  the  grey  oak,  ere  I  hastened  to  roam, 
And  I  fashioned  a  bench  for  tli«  door  of  my  home ; 
And  well  my  dear  sister  my  labour  repaid. 
Who  gave  me  three  kisses  when  first  it  was  made. 

*'  In  the  old  English  soldier  thy  brother  appears : 
Here  is  gold  in  abundance,  the  saving  of  years : 
Give  me  oatcake  and  milk  in  return  for  my  store, 
And  a  seat  by  thy  side  on  the  bench  at  the  door." 

Various  other  songs  succeeded,  which,  as  we  are  not  compo- 
sing a  song  book,  we  shall  lay  aside  for  the  present. 

An  old  squire,  who  had  not  missed  one  of  these  anniversaries, 
during  more  than  half  a  century,  now  stood  up,  and  filling  a  half- 
pint  bumper,  pronounced,  with  a  stentorian  voice — "  To  the  im- 
mortal memory  of  Headlong  Ap-Rhaiader,  and  to  the  health  of 
his  noble  descendant  and  worthy  representative !"  This  exam- 
ple was  followed  by  all  the  gentlemen  present.  The  harp  struck 
up  a  triumphal  strain ;  and,  the  old  squire  already  mentioned 
vociferating  the  first  stave,  they  sang,-  or  rather  roared,  the  fol- 
lowing 

CHORUS. 

Hail  to  the  Headlong !  the  Headlong  Ap-Headlong ! 
All  hail  to  the  Headlong,  the  Headlong  Ap-Headlong ! 

The  Headlong  Ap-Headlong 

Ap-Breakneck  Ap-Headlong 
Ap-Cataract  Ap-Pistyll  Ap-Rhaiader  Ap-Headlong ! 

The  bright  bowl  we  steep  in  the  name  of  the  Headlong : 
Let  the  youtlis  pledge  it  deep  to  the  Headlong  Ap-Headlong, 

And  the  rosy-lipped  lasses 

Touch  the  brim  as  it  passes. 
And  kiss  the  red  tide  for  the  Headlong  Ap-Headlong  I 


78  HEADLONG  HALL.  [chap.  xin. 

The  loud  harp  resounds  in  the  hall  of  the  Headlong: 
The  light  step  rebounds  in  the  hall  of  the  Headlong : 

Where  shall  music  invite  us, 

Or  beauty  delight  us, 
If  not  in  the  hall  of  the  Headlong  Ap-Headlong? 

Huzza !  to  the  health  of  the  Headlong  Ap-Headlong  I 
Fill  the  bowl,  fill  in  floods,  to  the  health  of  the  Headlong ! 

Till  the  stream  ruby -glowing, 

On  all  sides  o'erflowmg, 
Shall  fall  in  cascades  to  the  health  of  the  Headlong ! 

The  Headlong  Ap-Headlong 

Ap-Breakneck  Ap-Headlong 
Ap-Cataract  Ap-Pistyll  Ap-Rhaider  Ap-Headlong ! 

Squire  Headlong  returned  thanks  with  an  appropriate  libation, 
and  the  company  re-adjourned  to  the  ball-room,  where  they  kept 
it  up  till  sun-rise,  when  the  little  butler  summoned  them  to  break- 
fast. 


CHAP.  XIV.]  THE  PROPOSALS.  79 


CHAPTER   XIV. 


THE    PROPOSALS. 


The  chorus,  which  celebrated  the  antiquity  of  her  lineage,  had 
been  ringing  all  night  in  the  ears  of  Miss  Brindle-mew  Grimalkin 
Phcebe  Tabitha  Ap-Headlong,  when,  taking  the  squire  aside, 
while  the  visitors  were  sipping  their  tea  and  coffee,  "  Nephew 
Harry,"  said  she,  "  I  have  been  noting  your  behaviour,  during 
the  several  stages  of  the  ball  and  supper  ;  and,  though  I  cannot 
tax  you  with  any  want  of  gallantry,  for  you  are  a  very  gallant 
young  man,  nephew  Harry,  very  gallant — I  wish  I  could  say  as 
much  for  every  one"  (added  she,  throwing  a  spiteful  look  towards 
a  distant  corner,  where  Mr.  Jenkison  was  sitting  with  great  non- 
chalance,  and  at  the  moment  dipping  a  rusk  in  a  cup  of  choco- 
late) ;  "  but  I  lament  to  perceive  that  you  were  at  least  as  pleased 
with  your  lakes  of  milk-punch,  and  your  bottles  of  Champagne 
and  Burgundy,  as  with  any  of  your  delightful  partners.  Now, 
though  I  can  readily  excuse  this  degree  of  incombustibility  in  the 
descendant  of  a  family  so  remarkable  in  all  ages  for  personal 
beauty  as  ours,  yet  I  lament  it  exceedingly,  when  I  consider  that, 
in  conjunction  with  your  present  predilection  for  the  easy  life  of 
a  bachelor,  it  may  possibly  prove  the  means  of  causing  our 
ancient  genealogical  tree,  which  has  its  roots,  if  I  may  so  speak, 
in  the  foundations  of  the  world,  to  terminate  suddenly  in  a  point : 
unless  you  feel  yourself  moved  by  my  exhortations  to  follow  the 
example  of  all  your  ancestors,  by  choosing  yourself  a  fitting  and 
suitable  helpmate  to  immortalise  the  pedigree  of  Headlong  Ap- 
Rhaiader." 

"  Egad  !"  said  Squire  Headlong,  "  that  is  very  true.  I'll 
marry  directly.  A  good  opportunity  to  fix  on  some  one,  now 
they  are  all  here  ;  and  I'll  pop  the  question  without  further  cere- 
mony." 


80  HEADLONG  HALL.  [chap,  xiv 

"  What  think  you/'  said  the  old  lady,  "  of  Miss  Nanny  Glyn- 
Du,  the  lineal  descendant  of  Llewelyn  Ap-Yorvverth  ?" 

"  She  won't  do,"  said  Squire  Headlong. 

"  What  say  you,  then,"  said  the  lady,  "  to  Miss  Williams,  of 
Pontyglasrhydyrallt,  the  descendant  of  the  ancient  family  of ?" 

"  1  don't  like  her,"  said  Squire  Headlong  ;  "  and  as  to  her 
ancient  family,  that  is  a  matter  of  no  consequence.  I  have  an- 
tiquity enough  for  two.  They  are  all  moderns,  people  of  yester- 
day, in  comparison  with  us.  What  signify  six  or  seven  centuries, 
which  are  the  most  they  can  make  up  ?" 

"  Why,  to  be  sure,"  said  the  aunt,  "  on  that  view  of  the  ques- 
tion, it  is  of  no  consequence.  What  think  you,  then,  of  Miss 
Owen,  of  Nidd-y-Gygfraen  ?    She  will  have  six  thousand  a  year." 

"  I  would  not  have  her,"  said  Squire  Headlong,  "  if  she  had 
fifty.  I'll  think  of  somebody  presently.  I  should  like  to  be  mar- 
ried on  the  same  day  with  Caprioletta." 

"  Caprioletta  !"  said  Miss  Brindle-mew  ;  "  without  my  being 
consulted  !" 

"  Consulted  !"  said  the  squire  :  "  I  v/as  commissioned  to  tell 
you,  but  somehow  or  other  I  let  it  slip.  However,  she  is  going 
to  be  m^arried  to  my  friend  Mr.  Foster,  the  philosopher." 

"  Oh  !"  said  the  maiden  aunt,  "  that  a  daughter  of  our  ancient 
family  should  marry  a  philosopher  !  It  is  enough  to  make  the 
bones  of  all  the  Ap-Rhaiaders  turn  in  their  graves  !" 

"I  happen  to  be  more  enlightened,"  said  Squire  Headlong, 
"  than  any  of  my  ancestors  were.  Besides,  it  is  Caprioletta's  af- 
fair, not  mine.  I  tell  you,  the  matter  is  settled,  fixed,  deter- 
mined ;  and  so  am  I,  to  be  married  on  the  same  day.  I  don't 
know,  now  I  think  of  it,  whom  I  can  choose  better  than  one  of 
the  daughters  of  my  friend  Chromatic." 

"  A  Saxon  !"  said  the  aunt,  turning  up  her  nose,  and  was  com- 
mencing a  vehement  remonstrance  ;  but  the  squire,  exclaiming 
"  Music  has  charms  !"  flew  over  to  Mr.  Chromatic,  and,  with  a 
hearty  slap  on  the  shoulder,  asked  him  "  how  he  should  like  him 
for  a  son-in-law  ?''  Mr.  Chromatic,  rubbing  his  shoulder,  and 
highly  delighted  with  the  proposal,  answered,  "  Very  much  in- 
deed :"  but,  proceeding  to  ascertain  which  of  his  daughters  had 
captivated  the  squire,  the  squire  demurred,  and  was  unable  to 
satisfy  his  curiosity.    "  I  hope,"  said  Mr.  Chromatic,  "  it  may  be 


CHAP.  XIV.]  THE  PROPOSALS.  81 

Tenorina  ;  for  I  imagine  Graziosa  has  conceived  a  penchant  for 
Sir  Patrick  O'Prism." — "  Tenorina,  exactly,"  said  Squire  Head- 
long ;  and  became  so  impatient  to  bring  the  matter  to  a  conclusion, 
that  Mr.  Chromatic  undertook  to  communicate  with  his  daughter 
immediately.  The  young  lady  proved  to  be  as  ready  as  the 
squire,  and  the  preliminaries  were  arranged  in  little  more  than 
five  minutes. 

Mr.  Chromatic's  words,  that  he  imagined  his  daughter  Grazi- 
osa had  conceived  a  penchant  for  Sir  Patrick  O'Prism,  were  not 
lost  on  the  squire,  who  at  once  determined  to  have  as  many  com- 
panions in  the  scrape  as  possible,  and  who,  as  soon  as  he  could 
tear  himself  from  Mrs.  Headlong  elect,  took  three  flying  bounds 
across  the  room  to  the  baronet,  and  said,  "  So,  Sir  Patrick,  I  find 
you  and  I  are  going  to  be  married  ?" 

"  Are  we  ?"  said  Sir  Patrick  :  "  then  sure  won't  I  wish  you 
joy,  and  myself  too  ?  for  this  is  the  first  I  have  heard  of  it." 

"  Well,"  said  Squire  Headlong,  "  I  have  made  up  my  mind  to 
it,  and  you  must  not  disappoint  me." 

"  To  be  sure  I  won't,  if  I  can  help  it,"  said  Sir  Patrick ;  "  and 
I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you  for  taking  so  much  trouble  off  my 
hands.  And  pray,  now,  who  is  it  that  I  am  to  be  metamorphosing 
into  Lady  OTrism  ?" 

"  Miss  Graziosa  Chromatic,"  said  the  squire. 

"  Och  violet  and  vermilion  !"  said  Sir  Patrick  ;  "  though  I 
never  thought  of  it  before,  I  dare  say  she  will  suit  me  as  well  as 
another  :  but  then  you  must  persuade  the  ould  Orpheus  to  draw 
out  a  few  notes  of  rather  a  more  magigal  description  than  those 
he  is  so  fond  of  scraping  on  his  crazy  violin." 

"  To  be  sure  he  shall,"  said  the  squire ;  and,  immediately  re- 
turning to  Mr.  Chromatic,  concluded  the  negotiation  for  Sir  Pat- 
rick as  expeditiously  as  he  had  done  for  himself. 

The  squire  next  addressed  himself  to  Mr.  Escot :  "  Here  are 
three  couple  of  us  going  to  throw  oflT  together,  with  the  Reverend 
Doctor  Gaster  for  whipper-in  :  now,  I  think  you  cannot  do  better 
than  make  the  fourth  with  Miss  Cephalis  ;  and  then,  as  my 
father-in-law  that  is  to  be  would  say,  we  shall  compose  a  very 
harmonious  octave." 

"  Indeed,"  said  Mr.  Escot,  "  nothing  would  be  more  agreeable 
to  both  of  us  than  such  an  arrangement :  but  the  old  gentleman, 

7 


HEADLONG  HALL.  [chap.  xiv. 


since  I  first  knew  him,  has  changed,  like  the  rest  of  the  world, 
very  lamentably  for  the  worse  :  now,  we  wish  to  bring  him  to 
reason,  if  possible,  though  we  mean  to  dispense  with  his  consent, 
if  he  should  prove  much  longer  refractory." 

"  I'll  settle  him,"  said  Squire  Headlong ;  and  immediately 
posted  up  to  Mr.  Cranium,  informing  him  that  four  marriages 
were  about  to  take  place  by  way  of  a  merry  winding  up  of  the 
Christmas  festivities. 

"  Indeed  !"  said  Mr.  Cranium  ;  "  and  who  are  the  parties  ?" 

"  In  the  first  place,"  said  the  squire,  "  my  sister  and  Mr.  Fos- 
ter :  in  the  second.  Miss  Graziosa  Chromatic  and  Sir  Patrick 
O'Prism  :  in  the  third.  Miss  Tenorina  Chromatic  and  your  humble 
servant :  and  in  the  fourth — to  v/hich,  by  the  by,  your  consent  is 
wanted " 

"  Oho  !"  said  Mr.  Cranium. 

"  Your  daughter,"  said  Squire  Headlong. 

"And  Mr.  Panscope?"  said  Mr.  Cranium. 

"  And  Mr.  Escot,"  said  Squire  Headlong.  "  What  would  you 
have  better  ?     He  has  ten  thousand  virtues." 

"  So  has  Mr.  Panscope,"  said  Mr.  Cranium  ;  "  he  has  ten  thou- 
sand a  year." 

"  Virtues  ?"  said  Squire  Headlong. 

"Pounds,"  said  Mr.  Cranium. 

"  I  have  set  my  mind  on  Mr.  Escot,"  said  the  squire. 

"  I  am  much  obliged  to  you,"  said  Mr.  Cranium,  "  for  dethron- 
ing me  from  my  paternal  authority." 
"  .  "Who  fished  you  out  of  the  water?"  said  Squire  Headlong. 
yV^  "What  is  that  to  the  purpose?"  said  Mr.  Cranium.  "The 
whole  process  of  the  action  was  mechanical  and  necessary.  The 
application  of  the  poker  necessitated  the  ignition  of  the  powder : 
the  ignition  necessitated  the  explosion :  the  explosion  necessitated 
my  sudden  fright,  which  necessitated  my  sudden  jump,  which, 
from  a  necessity  equally  powerful,  was  in  a  curvilinear  ascent : 
the  descent,  being  in  a  corresponding  curve,  and  commencing  at 
a  point  perpendicular  to  the  extreme  line  of  the  edge  of  the  tower, 
I  was,  by  the  necessity  of  gravitation,  attracted,  first,  through  the 
ivy,  and  secondly  through  the  hazel,  and  thirdly  through  the  ash, 
into  the  water  beneath.  The  motive  or  impulse  thus  adhibited  in 
whe  person  of  a  drowning  man,  was  as  powerful  on  his  material 


CHAP.  XIV.]  THE  PROPOSALS.  83 

compages  as  the  force  of  gravitation  on  mine;  and  he  could  no 
more  help  jumping  into  the  water  than  I  could  help  falling  into  it." 
"All  perfectly  true,"  said  Squire  Headlong;  "and,  on  the 
same  principle,  you  make  no  distinction  between  the  man  who 
knocks  you  down  and  him  who  picks  you  up." 

"  I  make  this  distinction,"  said  Mr.  Cranium,  "  that  I  avoid  the 
former  as  a  machine  containing  a  peculiar  catahallitive  quality, 
which  I  have  found  to  be  not  consentaneous  to  my  mode  of  plea- 
surable existence  ;  but  I  attach  no  moral  merit  or  demerit  to  either 
of  them,  as  these  terms  are  usually  employed,  seeing  that  they 
are  equally  creatures  of  necessity,  and  must  act  as  they  do  from 
the  nature  of  their  organization.  I  no  more  blame  or  praise  a 
man  for  what  is  called  vice  or  virtue,  than  I  tax  a  tuft  of  hemlock 
with  malevolence,  or  discover  great  philanthropy  in  a  field  of  po- 
tatoes, seeing  that  the  men  and  the  plants  are  equally  incapaci- 
tated, by  their  original  internal  organization,  and  the  combinations 
and  modifications  of  external  circumstances,  from  being  any  thing 
but  what  they  are.     Quod  victus  fateare  necesse  est.'' 

"  Yet  you  destroy  the  hemlock,"  said  Squire  Headlong,  "  and 
cultivate  the  potatoe :  that  is  my  way,  at  least." 

"  I  do,"  said  Mr.  Cranium ;  "  because  I  know  that  the  farina- 
ceous qualities  of  the  potatoe  will  tend, to  preserve  the  great  requi- 
sites of  unity  and  coalescence  in  the  various  constituent  portions 
of  my  animal  republic ;  and  that  the  hemlock,  if  gathered  by 
mistake  for  parsley,  chopped  up  small  with  butter,  and  eaten  with 
a  boiled  chicken,  would  necessitate  a  great  derangement,  and 
perhaps  a  total  decomposition,  of  my  corporeal  mechanism." 

"  Very  well,"  said  the  squire ;  "  then  you  are  necessitated  to 
like  Mr.  Escot  better  than  Mr.  Panscope  ?" 

"  That  is  a  non  sequitur,''  said  Mr.  Cranium. 

"  Then  this  is  a  sequitur,'"  said  the  squire :  "  your  daughter 
and  Mr.  Escot  are  necessitated  to  love  one  another ;  and  unless 
you  feel  necessitated  to  adhibit  your  consent,  they  will  feel  neces- 
sitated to  dispense  with  h  ;  since  it  does  appear  to  moral  and 
political  economists  to  be  essentially  inherent  in  the  eternal  fitness 
of  things." 

Mr.  Cranium  fell  into  a  profound  reverie :  emerging  from 
which,  he  said,  looking  Squire  Headlong  full  in  the  face,  "  Do 
you  think  Mr.  Escot  would  give  me  that  skull  ?" 


84  HEADLONG  HALL.  [chap,  xiv 

"  Skull !"  said  Squire  Headlong. 

"Yes,"  said  Mr.  Cranium,  "the  skull  of  Cadwallader." 

"  To  be  sure  he  will,"  said  the  squire. 

"  Ascertain  the  point,"  said  Mr.  Cranium. 

"  How  can  you  doubt  it  ?"  said  the  squire. 

"  I  simply  know,"  said  Mr.  Cranium,  "  that  if  it  were  once  in 
my"  possession,  I  would  not  part  with  it  for  any  acquisition  on 
earth,  much  less  for  a  wife.  I  have  had  one :  and,  as  marriage 
has  been  compared  to  a  pill,  I  can  very  safely  assert  that  one  is 
a  dose  ;  and  my  reason  for  thinking  that  he  will  not  part  with  it 
is,  that  its  extraordinary  magnitude  tends  to  support  his  system, 
as  much  as  its  very  marked  protuberances  tend  to  support  mine ; 
and  you  know  his  own  system  is  of  all  things  the  dearest  to  every 
man  of  liberal  thinking  and  a  philosophical  tendency." 

The  squire  flew  over  to  Mr.  Escot.  "  I  told  you,"  said  he,  "I 
would  settle  him  :  but  there  is  a  very  hard  condition  attached  to 
his  compliance." 

"  I  submit  to  it,"  said  Mr.  Escot,  "  be  it  what  it  may." 

"  Nothing  less,"  said  Squire  Headlong,  "  than  the  absolute  and 
unconditional  surrender  of  the  skull  of  Cadwallader." 

"'  I  resign  it,"  said  Mr.  Escot. 

"  The  skull  is  yours,"  said  the  squire,  skipping  over  to  Mr. 
Cranium. 

"  I  am  perfectly  satisfied,"  said  Mr.  Cranium. 

"  The  lady  is  yours,"  said  the  squire,  skipping  back  to  Mr. 
Escot. 

"  I  am  the  happiest  man  alive,"  said  Mr.  Escot. 

"  Come,"  said  the  squire,  "  then  there  is  an  amelioration  in  the 
state  of  the  sensitive  man." 

"  A  slight  oscillation  of  good  in  the  instance  of  a  solitary  indi- 
vidual," answered  Mr.  Escot,  "  by  no  means  affects  the  solidity 
of  my  opinions  concerning  the  general  deterioration  of  the  civil- 
ised world  ;  which  when  I  can  be  induced  to  contemplate  with 
feelings  of  satisfaction,  I  doubt  not  but  that  I  may  be  persuaded 
to  he  in  love  with  tortures,  and  to  think  charitably  of  the  rack.''* 

Saying  these  words,  he  flew  off*  as  nimbly  as  Squire  Headlong 
himself,  to  impart  the  happy  intelligence  to  his  beautiful  Cephalis. 

*  Jeremy  Taylor. 


CHAP.  XIV.]  THE  PROPOSALS.  85 

Mr.  Cranium  now  walked  up  to  Mr.  Panscope,  to  condole  with 
him  on  the  disappointment  of  their  mutual  hopes.  Mr.  Panscope 
begged  him  not  to  distress  himself  on  the  subject,  observing,  that 
the  monotonous  system  of  female  education  brought  every  indi- 
vidual of  the  sex  to  so  remarkable  an  approximation  of  similarity, 
that  no  wise  man  would  suffer  himself  to  be  annoyed  by  a  loss 
so  easily  repaired  ;  and  that  there  was  much  truth,  though  not 
much  elegance,  in  a  remark  which  he  had  heard  made  on  a  simi- 
lar occasion  by  a  post-captain  of  his  acquaintance,  "  that  there 
never  was  a  fish  taken  out  of  the  sea,  but  left  another  as  good 
behind." 

Mr.  Cranium  replied,  that  no  two  individuals  having  all  the 
organs  of  the  skull  similarly  developed,  the  universal  resemblance 
of  which  Mr.  Panscope  had  spoken  could  not  possibly  exist.  Mr. 
Panscope  rejoined ;  and  a  long  discussion  ensued,  concerning  the 
comparative  influence  of  natural  organisation  and  artificial  edu- 
cation, in  which  the  beautiful  Cephalis  was  totally  lost  sight  of, 
and  which  ended,  as  most  controversies  do,  by  each  party  con- 
tinuing firm  in  his  own  opinion,  and  professing  his  profound  as- 
tonishment at  the  blindness  and  prejudices  of  the  other. 

In  the  meanwhile,  a  great  confusion  had  arisen  at  the  outer 
doors,  the  departure  of  the  ball-visitors  being  impeded  by  a  cir- 
cumstance which  the  experience  of  ages  had  discovered  no  means 
to  obviate.  The  grooms,  coachmen,  and  postillions,  were  all 
drunk.  It  was  proposed  that  the  gentlemen  should  officiate  in 
their  places  :  but  the  gentlemen  were  almost  all  in  the  same  con- 
dition. This  was  a  fearful  dilemma  :  but  a  very  diligent  inves- 
tigation brought  to  light  a  few  servants  and  a  few  gentlemen  not 
above  half-seas-over ;  and  by  an  equitable  distribution  of  these 
rarities,  the  greater  part  of  the  guests  were  enabled  to  set  for- 
ward, with  very  nearly  an  even  chance  of  not  having  their  necks 
broken  before  they  reached  home. 


86  HEADLONG  HALL.  [ciup. 


CHAPTER   XV. 


THE    CONCLUSION. 


The  squire  and  his  select  party  of  philosophers  and  dilettanti 
were  again  left  in  peaceful  possession  of  Headlong  Hall :  and,  as 
the  former  made  a  point  of  never  losing  a  moment  in  the  accom- 
plishment of  a  favourite  object,  he  did  not  suffer  many  days  to 
elapse,  before  the  spiritual  metamorphosis  of  eight  into  four  was 
effected  by  the  clerical  dexterity  of  the  Reverend  Doctor  Gaster. 

Immediately  after  the  ceremony,  the  v/hole  party  dispersed, 
the  squire  having  first  extracted  fronl  every  one  of  his  chosen 
guests  a  positive  promise  to  re-assemble  in  August,  when  they 
would  be  better  enabled,  in  its  most  appropriate  season,  to  form  a 
correct  judgment  of  Cambrian  hospitality. 

Mr.  Jenkison  shook  hands  at  parting  with  his  two  brother  phi- 
losophers. "  According  to  your  respective  systems,"  said  he,  "  I 
ought  to  congratulate  you  on  a  change  for  the  better,  which  I  do 
most  cordially :  and  to  condole  with  you  on  a  change  for  the 
worse,  though,  when  I  consider  whom  you  have  chosen,  I  should 
violate  every  principle  of  probability  in  doing  so." 

"You  will  do  well,'*  said  Mr.  Foster,  "to  follow  our  example. 
The  extensive  circle  of  general  philanthropy,  which,  in  the  pres- 
ent advanced  stage  of  human  nature,  comprehends  in  its  circum- 
ference the  destinies  of  the  whole  species,  originated,  and  still  pro- 
ceeds, from  that  narrower  circle  of  domestic  affection,  which  first 
set  limits  to  the  empire  of  selfishness,  and,  by  purifying  the  pas- 
sions and  enlarging  the  affections  of  mankind,  has  given  to  the 
views  of  benevolence  an  increasing  and  illimitable  expansion, 
which  will  finally  diffuse  happiness  and  peace  over  the  whole  sur- 
face  of  the  world." 

"  The  affection,"  said  Mr.  Escot,  "  of  two  congenial  spirits, 

y/  united  not  by  legal  bondage  and  superstitious  imposture,  but  by 

mutual  confidence  and  reciprocal  virtues,  is  the  only  counterbal- 


THE  CONCLUSION.  87 


ancing  consolation  in.  this  scene  of  mischief  and  misery.  But  how 
rarely  is  this  the  case  according  to  the  present  system  of  mar- 
riage !  So  far  from  being  a  central  point  of  expansion  to  the 
great  circle  of  universal  benevolence,  it  serves  only  to  concentrate 
the  feelings  of  natural  sympathy  in  the  reflected  selfishness  of 
family  interest,  and  to  substitute  for  the  humani  nihil  alienum  puto 
of  youthful  philanthropy,  the  charity  begins  at  home  of  maturer 
years.  And  what  accession  of  individual  happiness  is  acquired 
by.  this  oblivion  of  the  general  good  ?  Luxury,  despotism,  and 
avarice  have  so  seized  and  entangled  nine  hundred  and  ninety- 
nine  out  of  every  thousand  of  the  human  race,  that  the  matrimo- 
nial compact,  which  ought  to  be  the  most  easy,  the  most  free,  and 
the  most  simple  of  all  engagements,  is  become  the  most  slavish 
and  complicated, — a  mere  question  of  finance, — a  system  of  bar- 
gain, and  barter,  and  commerce,  and  trick,  and  chicanery,  and 
dissimulation,  and  fraud.  Is  there  one  instance  in  ten  thousand, 
in  which  the  buds  of  first  affection  are  not  most  cruelly  and  hope- 
lessly blasted,  by  avarice,  or  ambition,  or  arbitrary  power  ?  Fe- 
males, condemned  during  the  whole  flower  of  their  youth  to  a 
worse  than  monastic  celibacy,  irrevocably  debarred  from  the  hope 
to  which  their  first  afiections  pointed,  will,  at  a  certain  period  of 
life,  as  the  natural  delicacy  of  taste  and  feeling  is  gradually  worn 
away  by  the  attrition  of  society,  become  v/illing  to  take  up  with 
any  coxcomb  or  scoundrel,  whom  that  merciless  and  mercenary 
gang  of  cold-blooded  slaves  and  assassins,  called,  in  the  ordinary 
prostitution  of  language,  friends,  may  agree  in  designating  as  a 
prudent  choice.  Young  men,  on  the  other  hand,  are  driven  by 
the  same  vile  superstitions  from  the  company  of  the  most  amiable 
and  modest  of  the  opposite  sex,  to  that  of  those  miserable  victims 
and  outcasts  of  a  world  which  dares  to  call  itself  virtuous,  whom 
that  very  society  whose  pernicious  institutions  first  caused  their 
aberrations, — consigning  them,  without  one  tear  of  pity  or  one 
struggle  of  remorse,  to  penury,  infamy,  and  disease, — condemns 
to  bear  the  burden  of  its  own  atrocious  absurdities !  Thus,  the 
youth  of  one  sex  is  consumed  in  slavery,  disappointment,  and 
spleen ;  that  of  the  other,  in  frantic  folly  and  selfish  intemper- 
ance :  till  at  length,  on  the  necks  of  a  couple  so  enfeebled,  so  per- 
verted, so  distempered  both  in  body  and  soul,  society  throws  the 
yoke  of  marriage  :  that  yoke  which,  once  ri vetted  on  the  necks  of 


HEADLONG  HALL.  [chap.  xv. 


its  victims,  clings  to  them  like  the  poisoned  garments  of  Nessus  or 
Medea.  What  can  be  expected  from  these  ill-assorted  yoke-fel- 
lows, but  that,  like  two  ill-tempered  hounds,  coupled  by  a  tyran- 
nical sportsman,  they  should  drag  on  their  indissoluble  fetter, 
snarling  and  grow^ling,  and  pulling  in  different  directions  ?  What 
can  be  expected  for  their  wretched  offspring,  but  sickness  and 
suffering,  premature  decrepitude,  and  untimely  death  ?  In  this, 
as  in  every  other  institution  of  civilised  society,  avarice,  luxury, 
and  disease  constitute  the  triangular  harmony  of  the  life  of  man. 
Avarice  conducts  him  to  the  abyss  of  toil  and  crime ;  luxury 
seizes  on  his  ill-gotten  spoil ;  and,  while  he  revels  in  her  enchant- 
ments, or  groans  beneath  her  tyranny,  disease  bursts  upon  him, 
and  sweeps  him  from  the  earth." 

"  Your  theory,"  said  Mr.  Jenkison,  "  forms  an  admirable 
counterpoise  to  your  example.  As  far  as  I  am  attracted  by  the 
one,  I  am  repelled  by  the  other.  Thus,  the  scales  of  my  philo- 
sophical balance  remain  eternally  equiponderant,  and  I  see  no 
reason  to  say  of  either  of  them,  OIXETAI  EIS  AIAAO."* 

*  It  descends  to  the  shades :  or,  in  other  words,  it  goes  to  the  devil. 


NIGHTMARE    ABBEY, 


There's  a  dark  lantern  of  the  spirit, 
Which  none  see  by  but  those  who  bear  it, 
That  makes  them  in  the  dark  see  visions 
And  hag  themselves  with  apparitions, 
Find  racks  for  their  own  minds,  and  vaunt 
Of  their  own  misery  and  want. — Butler. 


[First  published  in  ISIS.] 


Matthew.  Oh!  it's  your  only  fine  humour,  sir.  Your  tnie  melancholy 
breeds  your  perfect  fine  wit,  sir.  I  am  melancholy  myself,  divers  times,  sir ; 
and  then  do  I  no  more  but  take  pen  and  paper  presently,  and  overflow  you 
half  a  score  or  a  dozen  of  sonnets  at  a  sitting. 

Stephen.     Truly,  sir,  and  I  love  such  things  out  of  measure. 

Matthew.  Why,  I  pray  you,  sir,  make  use  of  my  study :  it's  at  your  ser- 
vice. 

Stephen.  I  thank  you,  sir,  I  shall  be  bold,  I  warrant  you.  Have  you  a 
stool  there,  to  be  melancholy  upon  ? 

Ben  JoxNson.     Every  Man  in  his  Hmnour,  Act  3.  So.  1. 


NIGHTMARE    ABBEY 


Ay  esleu  gazoiiiller  et  siffler  oye,  comme  dit  le  commun  proverbe,  entre  lea 
cygnes,  plutoust  que  d'estre  entre  tant  de  gentils  poetes  et  faconds  orateui's  mut 
du  tout  estim^. — Rabelais,  ProL  L.  5. 


CHAPTER  I. 

Nightmare  Abbey,  a  venerable  family-mansion,  in  a  highly 
picturesque  state  of  semi-dilapidation,  pleasantly  situated  on  a 
strip  of  dry  land  between  the  sea  and  the  fens,  at  the  ver^e  of  the 
county  of  Lincoln,  had  the  honour  to  be  the  seat  of  Christopher 
Glowry,  Esquire.  This  gentleman  was  naturally  of  an  atrabila- 
riaus  temperament,  and  much  troubled  with  those  phantoms  of  in- 
digestion which  are  commonly  called  blue  devils.  He  had  been 
deceived  in  an  early  friendship  :  he  had  been  crossed  in  love  ; 
and  had  offered  his  hand,  from  pique,  to  a  lady,  who  accepted  it 
from  interest,  and  who,  in  so  doing,  violently  tore  asunder  the 
bonds  of  a  tried  and  youthful  attachment.  Her  vanity  was  grati- 
fied by  being  the  mistress  of  a  very  extensive,  if  not  very  lively, 
establishment ;  but  all  the  springs  of  her  sympathies  were  frozen. 
Riches  she  possessed,  but  that  which  enriches  them,  the  partici- 
pation of  affection,  was  v/anting.  All  that  they  could  purchase 
for  her  became  indifferent  to  her,  because  that  which  they  could 
not  purchase,  and  which  was  more  valuable  than  themselves,  she 
had,  for  their  sake,  thrown  away.  She  discovered,  when  it  was 
too  late,  that  she  had  mistaken  the  means  for  the  end — that  riches, 
rightly  used,  are  instruments  of  happiness,  but  are  not  in  them- 
selves happiness.  In  this  v/ilful  blight  of  her  affections,  she  found 
them  valueless  as  means  :  they  had  been  the  end  to  which  she 


92  NIGHTMARE  ABBEY.  [chap,  i 

had  immolated  all  her  afTections,  and  were  now  the  only  end  that 
remained  to  her.  She  did  not  confess  this  to  herself  as  a  princi- 
ple of  action,  but  it  operated  through  the  medium  of  unconscious 
self-deception,  and  terminated  in  inveterate  avarice.  She  laid 
on  external  things  the  blame  of  her  mind's  internal  disorder, 
and  thus  became  by  degrees  an  accomplished  scold.  She  often 
went  her  daily  rounds  through  a  series  of  deserted  apartments, 
every  creature  m  the  house  vanishing  at  the  creak  of  her  shoe, 
much  more  at  tRe  sound  of  her  voice,  to  which  the  nature  of 
things  affords  no  simile  ;  for,  as  far  as  the  voice  of  woman,  when 
attuned  by  gentleness  and  love,  transcends  all  other  sounds  in 
harmony,  so  far  does  it  surpass  all  others  in  discord,  when 
stretched  into  unnatural  shrillness  by  anger  and  impatience. 

Mr.  Glowry  used  to  say  that  his  house  was  no  better  than  a 
spacious  kennel,  for  every  one  in  it  led  the  life  of  a  dog.  Disap- 
pointed both  in  love  and  in  friendship,  and  looking  upon  human 
learning  as  vanity,  he  had  come  to  a  conclusion  that  there  was 
but  one  good  thing  in  the  world,  videlicet,  a  good  dinner  :  and 
this  his  parsimonious  lady  seldom  suffered  him  to  enjoy :  but,  one 
morning,  like  Sir  Leoline  in  Christabel,  "  he  woke  and  found  his 
lady  dead,"  and  remained  a  very  consolate  widower,  with  one 
small  child. 

This  only  son  and  heir  Mr.  Glowry  had  christened  Scythrop, 
from  the  name  of  a  maternal  ancestor,  who  had  hanged  himself 
one  rainy  day  in  a  fit  of  fcedium  vita,  and  had  been  eulogised  by 
a  coroner's,  jury  in  the  comprehensive  phrase  of /eZo  de  se :  on 
which  account,  Mr.  Glowry  held  his  memory  in  high  honour,  and 
made  a  punchbowl  of  his  skull. 

When  Scythrop  grew  up,  he  was  sent,  as  usual,  to  a  public 
school,  where  a  little  learning  was  painfully  beaten  into  him,  and 
from  thence  to  the  university,  where  it  was  carefully  taken  out 
of  him ;  and  he  was  sent  home  like  a  well-threshed  ear  of  corn, 
with  nothing  in  his  head :  having  finished  his  education  to  the 
high  satisfaction  of  the  master  and  fellows  of  his  college,  who  had, 
in  testimony  of  their  approbation,  presented  him  with  a  silver 
fish-slice,  on  which  his  name  figured  at  the  head  of  a  laudatory 
inscription  in  some  semi-barbarous  dialect  of  Anglo-Saxonised 
Latin. 

His  fellow- students,  however,  who  drove  tandem  and  random 


CHAP.  I.]  NIGHTMARE  ABBEY.  93 

in  great  perfection,  and  were  connoisseurs  in  good  inns,  had 
taught  him  to  drink  deep  ere  he  departed.  He  had  passed  much 
of  Jiis  time  with  these  choice  spirits,  and  had  seen  the  rays  of  the 
midnight  lamp  tremble  on  many  a  lengthening  file  of  empty  bot- 
tles. He  passed  his  vacations  sometimes  at  Nightmare  Abbey, 
sometimes  in  London,  at  the  house  of  his  uncle,  Mr.  Hilary,  a 
very  cheerful  and  elastic  gentleman,  who  had  married  the  sister 
of  the  melancholy  Mr.  Glowry.  The  company  that  frequented 
his  house  was  the  gayest  of  the  gay.  Scythrop  danced  with  the 
ladies  and  drank  with  the  gentlemen,  and  was  pronounced  by 
both  a  very  accomplished  charming  fellow,  and  an  honour  to  the 
university. 

At  the  house  of  Mr.  Hilary,  Scythrop  first  saw  the  beautiful 
Miss  Emily  Girouette.  He  fell  in  love ;  which  is  nothing  new. 
He  was  favourably  received ;  which  is  nothing  strange.  Mr. 
Glowry  and  Mr.  Girouette  had  a  meeting  on  the  occasion,  and 
quarrelled  about  the  terms  of  the  bargain ;  which  is  neither  new 
nor  strange.  The  lovers  were  torn  asunder,  weeping  and  vow- 
ing everlasting  constancy ;  and,  in  three  weeks  after  this  tragical 
event,  the  lady  was  led  a  smiling  bride  to  the  altar,  by  the  Hon- 
ourable Mr.  Lackwit ;  which  is  neither  strange  nor  new. 

Scythrop  received  this  intelligence  at  Nightmare  Abbey,  and 
was  half  distracted  on  the  occasion.  It  was  his  first  disappoint- 
ment, and  preyed  deeply  on  his  sensitive  spirit.  His  father,  to 
comfort  him,  read  him  a  Com.mentary  on  Ecclesiastes,  which  he 
had  himself  composed,  and  which  demonstrated  incontrovertibly 
that  all  is  vanity.  -He  insisted  particularly  on  the  text,  "One 
man  among  a  thousand  have  I  found,  but  a  woman  amongst  all 
those  have  I  not  found." 

"  How  could  he  expect  it,"  said  Scythrop,  "  when  the  whole 
thousand  were  locked  up  in  his  seraglio  ?  His  experience  is  no 
precedent  for  a  free  state  of  society  like  that  in  which  we  live." 

"  Locked  up  or  at  large,"  said  Mr.  Glowry,  "the  result  is  the 
same :  their  minds  are  always  locked  up,  and  vanity  and  interest 
keep  the  key.     I  speak  feelingly,  Scythrop." 

"I  am. sorry  for  it,  sir,"  said  Scythrop.  "But  how  is  it  that 
their  minds  are  locked  up  ?  The  fault  is  in  their  artificial  edu- 
cation, which  studiously  models  them  into  mere  musical  dolls,  to 
be  set  out  for  sale  in  the  great  toy-shop  of  society." 


34  NIGHTMARE  ABBEY.  [cHAr.  i. 

"  To  be  sure,"  said  Mr.  Glowry,  "  their  education  is  not  so 
well  finished  as  yours  has  been ;  and  your  idea  of  a  musical  doll 
is  good.  I  bought  one  myself,  but  it  was  confoundedly  out  of 
tune  ;  but,  whatever  be  the  cause,  Schthrop,  the  effect  is  certainly 
this,  that  one  is  pretty  nearly  as  good  as  another,  as  far  as  any 
judgment  can  be  formed  of  them  before  marriage.  It  is  only 
after  marriage  that  they  show  their  true  qualities,  as  I  know  by 
bitter  experience.  Marriage  is,  therefore,  a  lottery,  and  the  less 
choice  and  selection  a  man  bestows  on  his  ticket  the  better ;  for, 
if  he  has  incurred  considerable  pains  and  expense  to  obtain  a 
lucky  number,  and  his  lucky  number  proves  a  blank,  he  expe- 
riences not  a  simple,  but  a  complicated  disappointment ;  the  loss 
of  labour  and  money  being  superadded  to  the  disappointment  of 
drawing  a  blank,  which,  constituting  simply  and  entirely  the 
grievance  of  him  who  has  chosen  his  ticket  at  random,  is,  from 
its  simplicity,  the  more  endurable."  This  very  excellent  reason- 
ing was  thrown  away  upon  Scythrop,  who  retired  to  his  tower  as 
dismal  and  disconsolate  as  before. 

The  tower  v/hich  Scythrop  inhabited  stood  at  the  south-eastern 
angle  of  the  Abbey ;  and,  on  the  southern  side,  the  foot  of  the 
tower  opened  on  a  terrace,  which  was  called  the  garden,  though 
nothing  grew  on  it  but  ivy,  and  a  few  amphibious  weeds.  The 
south-western  tower,  which  was  ruinous  and  full  of  owls,  might, 
with  equal  propriety,  have  been  called  the  aviary.  This  terrace 
or  garden,  or  terrace-garden,  or  garden-terrace  (the  reader  may 
name  it  ad  libitum),  took  in  an  oblique  view  of  the  open  sea,  and 
fronted  a  long  tract  of  level  sea-coast,  and  a  fine  monotony  of  fens 
and  windmills. 

The  reader  will  judge,  from  what  we  have  said,  that  this  build- 
ing was  a  sort  of  castellated  abbey  ;  and  it  will,  probably,  occur 
to  him  to  inquire  if  it  had  been  one  of  the  strong-holds  of  the 
ancient  church  militant.  Whether  this  was  the  case,  or  how  far 
it  had  been  indebted  to  the  taste  of  Mr.  Glowry's  ancestors  for 
any  transmutations  from  its  original  state,  are,  unfortunately,  cir- 
cumstances  not  within  the  pale  of  our  knowledge. 

The  north-western  tower  contained  the  apartments  of  Mr. 
Glowry.  The  moat  at  its  base,  and  the  fens  beyond,  comprised 
the  whole  of  his  prospect.     This  moat  surrounded  the  Abbey, 


CHAP.  I.]  NIGHTMARE  ABBEY.  95 

and  was  in  immediate  contact  with  the  walls  on  every  side  but 
the  south. 

The  north-eastern  tower  was  appropriated  to  the  domestics, 
whom  Mr.  Glowry  always  chose  by  one  of  two  criterions, — a 
long  face,  or  a  dismal  name.  His  butler  was  Raven  ;  his  steward 
was  Crow  ;  his  valet  was  Skellet.  Mr.  Glowry  maintained  that 
the  valet  was  of  French  extraction,  and  that  his  name  v/as  Sque- 
lette.  His  grooms  were  Mattocks  and  Graves.  On  one  occasion, 
being  in  want  of  a  footman,  he  received  a  letter  from  a  person 
signing  himself  Diggory  Deathshead,  and  lost  no  time  in  securing 
this  acquisition  ;  but  on  Diggory 's  arrival,  Mr.  Glowry  was  hor- 
ror-struck by  the  sight  of  a  round  ruddy  face,  and  a  pair  of 
laughing  eyes.  Deathshead  was  always  grinning, — not  a  ghastly 
smile,  but  the  grin  of  a  comic  mask  ;  and  disturbed  the  echoes 
of  the  hall  with  so  much  unhallowed  laughter,  that  Mr.  Glowry 
gave  him  his  discharge.  Diggory,  however,  had  staid  long 
enough  to  make  conquests  of  all  the  old  gentleman's  maids,  and 
left  him  a  flourishing  colony  of  young  Deathsheads  to  join  chorus 
with  the  owls,  that  had  before  been  the  exclusive  choristers  of 
Nightmare  Abbey. 

The  main  body  of  the  building  was  divided  into  rooms  of  state, 
spacious  apartments  for  feasting,  and  numerous  bed-rooms  for 
visitors,  who,  however,  were  few  and  far  between. 

Family  interests  compelled  Mr.  Glowry  to  receive  occasional 
visits  from  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hilary,  who  paid  them  from  the  same 
motive  ;  and,  as  the  lively  gentleman  on  these  occasions  found 
few  conductors  for  his  exuberant  gaiety,  he  became  like  a  double- 
charged  electric  jar,  which  often  exploded  in  some  burst  of  outrage- 
ous merriment  to  the  signal  discomposure  of  Mr.  Glowry's  nerves. 

Another  occasional  visitor,  much  more  to  Mr.  Glowry's  taste, 
was  Mr.  Flosky,*  a  very  lachrymose  and  morbid  gentleman,  of 
some  note  in  the  literary  world,  but  in  his  own  estimation  of  much 
more  merit  than  name.  The  part  of  his  character  which  recom- 
mended him  to  Mr.  Glowry,  was  his  very  fine  sense  of  the  grim 
and  the  tearful.  No  one  could  relate  a  dismal  story  with  so 
many  minutiae  of  supererogatory  wretchedness.  No  one  could 
call  up  a  raw-head  and  bloody  bones  with  so  many  adjuncts  and 

*  A  corruption  of  Filosky,  quasi  ^iXovKiosy  a  lover,  or  sectator,  of  shadows 


96  NIGHTMARE  ABBEY.  [chap,  l 

circumstances  of  ghastliness.  Mystery  was  his  mental  element. 
He  lived  in  the  midst  of  that  visionary  world  in  which  nothing  is 
but  what  is  not.  He  dreamed  with  his  eyes  open,  and  saw  ghosts 
dancing  round  him  at  noontide.  He  had  been  in  his  youth  an 
enthusiast  for  liberty,  and  had  hailed  the  dawn  of  the  French 
Revolution  as  the  promise  of  a  day  that  was  to  banish  war  and 
slavery,  and  every  form  of  vice  and  misery,  from  the  face  of  the 
earth.  Because  all  this  was  not  done,  he  deduced  that  nothing 
was  done  ;  and  from  this  deduction,  according  to  his  system  of 
logic,  he  drew  a  conclusion  that  worse  than  nothing  was  done  ; 
that  the  overthrow  of  the  feudal  fortresses  of  tyranny  and  super- 
stition was  the  greatest  calamity  that  had  ever  befallen  mankind ; 
and  that  their  only  hope  now  was  to  rake  the  rubbish  together, 
and  rebuild  it  without  any  of  those  loopholes  by  which  the  light 
had  originally  crept  in.  To  qualify  himself  for  a  coadjutor  in 
this  laudable  task,  he  plunged  into  the  central  opacity  of  Kantian 
metaphysics,  and  lay  perdu  several  years  in  transcendental  dark- 
ness, till  the  common  daylight  of  common  sense  became  intolera- 
ble to  his  eyes.  He  called  the  sun  an  ignis  fatuus ;  and  ex- 
horted all  who  would  listen  to  his  friendly  voice,  which  were 
about  as  many  as  called  "  God  save  King  Richard,"  to  shelter 
themselves  from  its  delusive  radiance  in  the  obscure  haunt  of  Old 
Philosophy.  This  word  Old  had  great  charms  for  him.  The 
good  old  times  were  always  on  his  lips  ;  meaning  the  days  when 
polemic  theology  was  in  its  prime,  and  rival  prelates  beat  the 
drum  ecclesiastic  with  Herculean  vigour,  till  the  one  wound  up 
his  series  of  syllogisms  with  the  very  orthodox  conclusion  of 
roasting  the  other. 

But  the  dearest  friend  of  Mr.  Glowry,  and  his  most  welcome 
guest,  was  Mr.  Toobad,  the  Manichsean  Millenarian.  The  twelfth 
verse  of  the  twelfth  chapter  of  Revelations  was  always  in  his 
mouth  :  "  Woe  to  the  inhabiters  of  the  earth  and  of  the  sea  !  for 
the  devil  is  come  among  you,  having  great  wrath,  because  he 
knoweth  that  he  hath  but  a  short  time."  He  maintained  that  the 
supreme  dominion  of  the  world  was,  for  wise  purposes,  given  over 
for  a  while  to  the  Evil  Principle  ;  and  that  this  precise  period  of 
time,  commonly  called  the  enlightened  age,  was  the  point  of  his 
plenitude  of  power.  He  used  to  add  that  by  and  by  he  would 
be  cast  down,  and  a  high  and  happy  order  of  things  succeed ;  but 


CHAP.  I.]  NIGHTMARE  ABBEY.  97 

he  never  omitted  the  saving  clause,  "  Not  in  our  time  :"  which 
last  words  were  always  echoed  in  doleful  response  by  the  sym- 
pathetic  Mr.  Glowry. 

Another  and  very  frequent  visitor,  was  the  Reverend  Mr.  Lar- 
ynx, the  vicar  of  Claydyke,  a  village  about  ten  miles  distant  ;— 
a  good-natured  accommodating  divine,  who  was  always  most  obli- 
gingly ready  to  take  a  dinner  and  a  bed  at  the  house  of  any 
country  gentleman  in  distress  for  a  companion.  Nothing  came 
amiss  to  him, — a  game  at  billiards,  at  chess,  at  draughts,  at  back- 
gammon, at  piquet,  or  at  all-fours  in  a  tete-a-tete, — or  any  game 
on  the  cards,  round,  square,  or  triangular,  in  a  party  of  any  num- 
ber exceeding  two.  He  would  even  dance  among  friends,  rather 
than  that  a  lady,  even  if  she  were  on  the  wrong  side  of  thirty, 
should  sit  still  for  want  of  a  partner.  For  a  ride,  a  walk,  or  a  sail, 
in  the  morning, — a  song  after  dinner,  a  ghost  story  after  supper, 
— a  bottle  of  port  with  the  squire,  or  a  cup  of  green  tea  with  his 
lady, — for  all  or  any  of  these,  or  for  any  thing  else  that  was 
agreeable  to  any  one  else,  consistently  with  the  dye  of  his  coat, 
the  Reverend  Mr.  Larynx  was  at  all  times  equally  ready.  When 
at  Nightmare  Abbey,  he  would  condole  with  Mr.  Glowry, — 
drink  Madeira  with  Scythrop, — crack  jokes  with  Mr.  Hilary, — 
hand  Mrs.  Hilary  to  the  piano,  take  charge  of  her  fan  and  gloves, 
and  turn  over  her  music  with  surprising  dexterity, — quote  Reve- 
lations with  Mr.  Toobad, — and  lament  the  good  old  times  of  feu- 
dal darkness  with  the  transcendental  Mr.  Flosky. 
8 


98  NIGHTMARE  ABBEY.  [chap,  i, 


CHAPTER   II. 

Shortly  after  the  disastrous  termination  of  Scythrop's  passion 
for  Miss  Emily  Girouette,  Mr.  Glowry  found  himself,  much 
against  his  will,  involved  in  a  lawsuit,  which  compelled  him  to 
dance  attendance  on  the  High  Court  of  Chancery.  Scythrop  was 
left  alone  at  Nightmare  Abbey.  He  was  a  burnt  child,  and 
dreaded  the  fire  of  female  eyes.  He  wandered  about  the  ample 
pile,  or  along  the  garden-terrace,  with  "  his  cogitative  faculties  im- 
mersed in  cogibundity  of  cogitation."  The  terrace  terminated  at 
the  south-western  tower,  which,  as  we  have  said,  v.as  ruinous 
and  full  of  owls.  Here  vvould  Scythrop  take  his  evening  seat,  on 
a  fallen  fragment  of  mossy  stone,  with  his  back  resting  against 
the  ruined  wall, — a  thick  canopy  of  ivy,  with  an  owl  in  it,  over 
his  head, — and  the  Sorrows  of  Werter  in  his  hand.  He  had  some 
taste  for  romance  reading  before  he  went  to  the  university,  where, 
we  must  confess,  in  justice  to  his  college,  he  was  cured  of  the 
love  of  reading  in  all  its  shapes ;  and  the  cure  would  have  been 
radical,  if  disappointment  in  love,  and  total  solitude,  had  not  con- 
spired to  bring  on  a  relapse.  He  began  to  devour  romances  and 
German  tragedies,  and,  by  the  recommendation  of  Mr.  Flosky,  to 
pore  over  ponderous  tomes  of  transcendental  philosophy,  which 
reconciled  him  to  the  labour  of  studying  them  by  their  mystical 
jargon  and  necromantic  imagery.  In  the  congenial  solitude  of 
Nightmare  Abbey,  the  distempered  ideas  of  metaphysical  romance 
and  romantic  metaphysics  had  ample  time  and  space  to  germinate 
into  a  fertile  crop  of  chimeras,  which  rapidly  shot  up  into  vigor- 
ous and  abundant  vegetation. 

He  now  became  troubled  with  the  imssion  for  reforming  the 
toorld.*  He  built  many  castles  in  the  air,  and  peopled  them  with 
secret  tribunals,  and  bands  of  illuminati,  who  were  always  the 
imaginary  instruments  of  his  projected  regeneration  of  the  hu- 

*  See  Forsyth's  Principles  of  Moral  Science. 


CHAP.  11.]  NIGHTMARE  ABBEY.  99 

man  species.  As  he  intended  to  institute  a  perfect  republic,  he 
invested  himself  with  absolute  sovereignty  over  these  mystical 
dispensers  of  liberty.  He  slept  with  Horrid  Mysteries  under  his 
pillow,  and  dreamed  of  venerable  eleutherarchs  and  ghastly  con- 
federates  holding  midnight  conventions  in  subterranean  caves.  He 
passed  whole  mornings  in  his  study,  immersed  in  gloomy  reverie, 
stalking  about  the  room  in  his  nightcap,  which  he  pulled  over  his 
eyes  like  a  cowl,  and  folding  his  striped  calico  dressing-gown  about 
him  like  the  mantle  of  a  conspirator. 

"  Action,"  thus  he  soliloquised,  "  is  the  result  of  opinion,  and 
to  new-model  opinion  would  be  to  new-model  society.  Knowl- 
edge is  power  ;  it  is  in  the  hands  of  a  few,  who  employ  it  to  mis- 
lead the  many,  for  their  own  selfish  purposes  of  aggrandisement 
and  appropriation.  What  if  it  were  in  the  hands  of  a  few  who 
should  employ  it  to  lead  the  many  ?  What  if  it  were  universal, 
and  the  multitude  were  enlightened  ?  No.  The  many  must  be 
always  in  leading-strings ;  but  let  them  have  wise  and  honest 
conductors.  A  i^GW  to  think,  and  many  to  act ;  that  is  the  only 
basis  of  perfect  society.  So  thought  the  ancient  philosophers  : 
they  had  their  esoterical  and  exoterical  doctrines.  So  thinks  the 
sublime  Kant,  who  delivers  his  oracles  in  language  which  none 
but  the  initiated  can  comprehend.  Such  were  the  views  of 
those  secret  associations  of  illuminati,  which  were  the  terror  of 
superstition  and  tyranny,  and  which,  carefully  selecting  wisdom 
and  genius  from  the  great  wilderness  of  society,  as  the  bee  selects 
honey  from  the  flowers  of  the  thorn  and  the  nettle,  bound  all  hu- 
man excellence  in  a  chain,  which,  if  it  had  not  been  prematurely 
broken,  would  have  commanded  opinion,  and  regenerated  the 
world." 

Scythrop  proceeded  to  meditate  on  the  practicability  of  reviving 
a  confederation  of  regenerators.  To  get  a  clear  view  of  his  own 
ideas,  and  to  feel  the  pulse  of  the  wisdom  and  genius  of  the  age, 
he  wrote  and  published  a  treatise,  in  which  his  meanings  were 
carefully  wrapt  up  in  the  monk's  hood  of  transcendental  technol- 
ogy, but  filled  with  hints  of  matter  deep  and  dangerous,  which  he 
thought  would  set  the  whole  nation  in  a  ferment ;  and  he  awaited 
the  result  in  awful  expectation,  as  a  miner  who  has  fired  a  train 
awaits  the  explosion  of  a  rock.  However,  he  listened  and  heard 
nothing ;   for  the  explosion,  if  any  ensued,  was  not  sufficiently 


100  NIGHTMARE  ABBEY.  [chap,  n 

loud  to  shake  a  single  leaf  of  the  ivy  on  the  towers  of  Nightmare 
Abbey ;  and  some  months  afterwards  he  received  a  letter  from 
his  bookseller,  informing  him  that  only  seven  copies  had  been 
sold,  and  concluding  with  a  polite  request  for  the  balance. 

Scythrop  did  not  despair.  "  Seven  copies,"  he  thought,  '•  have 
been  sold.  Seven  is  a  mystical  number,  and  the  omen  is  good. 
Let  me  find  the  seven  purchasers  of  my  seven  copies,  and  they 
shall  be  the  seven  golden  candlesticks  with  which  I  will  illumi- 
nate the  world." 

Scythrop  had  a  certain  portion  of  mechanical  genius,  which 
his  romantic  projects  tended  to  develope.  He  constructed  mod- 
els of  cells  and  recesses,  sliding  panels  and  secret  passages,  that 
would  have  baffled  the  skill  of  the  Parisian  police.  He  took  the 
opportunity  of  his  father's  absence  to  smuggle  a  dumb  carpenter 
into  the  Abbey,  and  between  them  they  gave  reality  to  one  of 
these  models  in  Scythrop's  tower.  Scythrop  foresaw  that  a  great 
leader  of  human  regeneration  would  be  involved  in  fearful  dilem- 
mas, and  determined,  for  the  benefit  of  mankind  in  general,  to 
adopt  all  possible  precautions  for  the  preservation  of  himself. 

The  servants,  even  the  women,  had  been  tutored  into  silence. 
Profound  stillness  reigned  throughout  and  around  the  Abbey,  ex- 
cept when  the  occasional  shutting  of  a  door  would  peal  in  long 
reverberations  through  the  galleries,  or  the  heavy  tread  of  the 
pensive  butler  would  wake  the  hollow  echoes  of  the  hall.  Scy- 
throp stalked  about  like  the  grand  inquisitor,  and  the  servants 
flitted  past  him  like  familiars.  In  his  evening  meditations  on  the 
terrace,  under  the  ivy  of  the  ruined  tower,  the  only  sounds  that 
came  to  his  ear  w^ere  the  rustling  of  the  wind  in  the  ivy,  the 
plaintive  voices  of  the  feathered  choristers,  the  owls,  the  occa- 
sional striking  of  the  Abbey  clock,  and  the  monotonous  dash  of 
the  sea  on  its  low  and  level  shore.  In  the  mean  time,  he  drank 
]\Iadeira,  and  laid  deep  schemes  for  a  thorough  repair  of  the 
crazy  fabric  of  human  nature. 


CHAP.  III.]  NIGHTMARE  AB^ETk;.  .  101 


CHAPTER  III. 

Mr,  Glowry  returned  from  London  with  the  loss  of  his  law- 
suit.  Justice  was  with  him,  but  the  law  was  against  him.  He 
found  Scythrop  in  a  mood  most  sympathetically  tragic  ;  and  they 
vied  with  each  other  in  enlivening  their  cups  by  lamenting  the 
depravity  of  this  degenerate  age,  and  occasionally  interspersing 
divers  grim  jokes  about  graves,  worms,  and  epitaphs.  Mr. 
Glowry's  friends,  whom  we  have  mentioned  in  the  first  chapter, 
availed  themselves  of  his  return  to  pay  him  a  simultaneous  visit. 
At  the  same  time  arrived  Scythrop's  friend  and  fellow-collegian, 
the  Honourable  Mr.  Listless.  Mr.  Glowry  had  discovered  this 
fashionable  young  gentleman  in  London,  "  stretched  on  the  rack 
of  a  too  easy  chair,"  and  devoured  with  a  gloomy  and  misan- 
thropical nil  euro,  and  had  pressed  him  so  earnestly  to  take  the 
benefit  of  the  pure  country  air,  at  Nightmare  Abbey,  that  Mr. 
Listless,  finding  it  would  give  him  more  trouble  to  refuse  than  to 
comply,  summoned  his  French  valet,  Fatout,  and  told  him  he  was 
going  to  Lincolnshire.  On  this  simple  hint,  Fatout  went  to  work, 
and  the  imperials  were  packed,  and  the  post-chariot  was  at  the 
door,  without  the  Honourable  Mr.  Listless  having  said  or  thought 
another  syllable  on  the  subject. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hilary  brought  with  them  an  orphan  niece,  a 
daughter  of  Mr.  Glowry's  youngest  sister,  who  had  made  a  run- 
away love-match  with  an  Irish  officer.  The  lady's  fortune  dis- 
appeared in  the  first  year  :  love,  by  a  natural  consequence,  dis- 
appeared in  the  second  :  the  Irishman  himself,  by  a  still  more 
natural  consequence,  disappeared  in  the  third.  Mr.  Glowry  had 
allowed  his  sister  an  annuity,  and  she  had  lived  in  retirement 
with  her  only  daughter,  whom,  at  her  death,  which  had  recently 
happened,  she  commended  to  the  care  of  Mrs.  Hilary. 

Miss  Marionetta  Celestina  0 'Carroll  was  a  very  blooming  and 
accomplished  young  lady.     Being    a  compound  of  the  Allegro 


102  NIGHTMARE  ABBEY.  [chap.  in. 


Vivace  of  the  O'CaFrolls-,  and  6f  the  Andante  Dolorosa  of  the 
Glov.'i:ies,''5!hc  'exhibited  ih  hat  own  character  all  the  diversities 
of  an  April  sky.  Her  hair  was  light-brown  ;  her  eyes  hazel,  and 
sparkling  with  a  mild  but  fluctuating  light ;  her  features  regular ; 
her  lips  full,  and  of  equal  size ;  and  her  person  surpassingly 
graceful.  She  was  a  proficient  in  music.  Her  conversation  was 
sprightly,  but  always  on  subjects  light  in  their  nature  and  limited 
in  their  interest:  for  moral  sympathies,  in  any  general  sense, 
had  no  place  in  her  mind.  She  had  some  coquetry,  and  more 
caprice,  liking  and  disliking  almost  in  the  same  moment ;  pursu- 
ing an  object  with  earnestness  while  it  seemed  unattainable,  and 
rejecting  it  when  in  her  power  as  not  worth  the  trouble  of  pos- 
session. 

Whether  she  was  touched  with  a  jjenchant  for  her  cousin  Scy- 
throp,  or  was  merely  curious  to  see  what  effect  the  tender  passion 
would  have  on  so  outre  a  person,  she  had  not  been  three  days  in 
the  Abbey  before  she  threw  out  all  the  lures  of  her  beauty  and 
accomplishments  to  make  a  prize  of  his  heart.  Scythrop  proved 
an  easy  conquest.  The  image  of  Miss  Emily  Girouette  was 
already  sufficiently  dimmed  by  the  power  of  philosophy  and  the 
exercise  of  reason :  for  to  these  influences,  or  to  any  influence 
but  the  true  one,  are  usually  ascribed  the  mental  cures  performed 
by  the  great  physician  Time.  Scythrop's  romantic  dreams  had 
indeed  given  him  many  pure  anticipated  cognitions  of  combina- 
tions of  beauty  and  intelligence,  which,  he  had  some  misgivings, 
were  not  exactly  realised  in  his  cousin  Marionetta ;  but,  in  spite 
of  these  misgivings,  he  soon  became  distractedly  in  love  ;  which, 
when  the  young  lady  clearly  perceived,  she  altered  her  tactics, 
and  assumed  as  much  coldness  and  reserve  as  she  had  before 
shown  ardent  and  ingenuous  attachment.  Scythrop  was  con- 
founded at  the  sudden  change  ;  but,  instead  of  falling  at  her  feet 
and  requesting  an  explanation,  he  retreated  to  his  tower,  muffled 
himself  in  his  nightcap,  seated  himself  in  the  president's  chair  of 
his  imaginary  secret  tribunal,  summoned  Marionetta  with  all  ter- 
rible formalities,  frightened  her  out  of  her  wits,  disclosed  himself, 
and  clasped  the  beautiful  penitent  to  his  bosom. 

While  he  was  acting  this  reverie — in  the  moment  in  which  the 
awful  president  of  the  secret  tribunal  was  throwing  back  his  cowl 
and  hpii  mantle,  and  discovering  himself  to  the  lovely  culprit  as 


CHAP.  III.]  NIGHTMARE  ABBEY.  103 

her  adoring  and  magnanimous  lover,  the  door  of  the  study  opened, 
and  the  real  Marionetta  appeared. 

The  motives  which  had  led  her  to  the  tower  were  a  little  peni- 
tence, a  little  concern,  a  little  affection,  and  a  little  fear  as  to 
what  the  sudden  secession  of  Scythrop,  occasioned  by  her  sudden 
change  of  manner,  might  portend.  She  had  tapped  several  times 
unheard,  and  of  course  unanswered  ;  and  at  length,  timidly  and 
cautiously  opening  the  door,  she  discovered  him  standing  up  be- 
fore a  black  velvet  chair,  which  was  mounted  on  an  old  oak  table, 
in  the  act  of  thi'owing  open  his  striped  calico  dressing-gown,  and 
flinging  away  his  nightcap — which  is  what  the  French  call  an 
imposing  attitude. 

Each  stood  a  few  moments  fixed  in  their  respective  places — ^the 
lady  in  astonishment,  and  the  gentleman  in  confusion.  Marion- 
etta was  the  first  to  break  silence.  "  For  heaven's  sake,"  said 
she,  "  my  dear  Scythrop,  what  is  the  matter  ?" 

•'  For  heaven's  sake,  indeed !"  said  Scythrop,  springing  from 
the  table  ;  "  for  your  sake,  Marionetta,  and  you  are  my  heaven, 
— distraction  is  the  matter.  I  adore  you,  Marionetta,  and  your 
cruelty  drives  me  mad."  He  threw  himself  at  her  knees,  de- 
voured her  hand  v/ith  kisses,  and  breathed  a  thousand  vows  in 
the  most  passionate  language  of  romance. 

Marionetta  listened  a  long  time  in  silence,  till  her  lover  had  ex- 
hausted his  eloquence  and  paused  for  a  reply.  She  then  said, 
with  a  very  arch  look,  "  I  prithee  deliver  thyself  like  a  man  of  ( 
this  v/orld."  The  levity  of  this  quotation,  and  of  the  manner  in 
which  it  was  delivered,  jarred  ^o  discordantly  on  the  high- wrought 
enthusiasm  of  the  romantic  inamorato,  that  he  sprang  upon  his 
feet,  and  beat  his  forehead  with  his  clenched  fists.  The  young 
lady  was  terrified  ;  and,  deeming  it  expedient  to  soothe  him,  took 
one  of  his  hands  in  hers,  placed  the  other  hand  on  his  shoulder, 
looked  up  in  his  face  with  a  winning  seriousness,  and  said,  in  the 
tenderest  possible  tone,  "  What  would  you  have,  Scythrop  ?" 

Scythrop  was  in  heaven  again.  "  What  would  I  have  ?  What 
but  you,  Marionetta  ?  You,  for  the  companion  of  my  studies,  the 
partner  of  my  thoughts,  the  auxiliary  of  my  great  designs  for  the 
emancipation  of  mankind." 

"  I  am  afraid  I  should  be  but  a  poor  auxiliary,  Scythrop. 
What  would  you  have  me  do  ?" 


104  NIGHTMARE  ABBEY.  [chap.  in. 

"  Do  as  Rosalia  does  with  Carlos,  divine  Marionetta.  Let  us 
each  open  a  vein  in  the  other's  arm,  mix  our  blood  in  a  bowl,  and 
drink  it  as  a  sacrament  of  love.  Then  we  shall  see  visions  of 
transcendental  illumination,  and  soar  on  the  wings  of  ideas  into 
the  space  of  pure  intelligence." 

Marionetta  could  not  reply  ;  she  had  not  so  strong  a  stomach 
as  Rosalia,  and  turned  sick  at  the  proposition.  She  disengaged 
herself  suddenly  from  Scythrop,  sprang  through  the  door  of  the 
tower,  and  fled  with  precipitation  along  the  corridors.  Scythrop 
pursued  her,  crying,  "  Stop,  stop,  Marionetta — my  life,  my  love  !" 
and  was  gaining  rapidly  on  her  flight,  when,  at  an  ill-omened 
corner,  where  two  corridors  ended  in  an  angle,  at  the  head  of  a 
staircase,  he  came  into  sudden  and  violent  contact  with  Mr.  Too- 
bad,  and  they  both  plunged  together  to  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  like 
two  billiard-balls  into  one  pocket.  This  gave  the  young  lady 
time  to  escape,  and  enclose  herself  in  her  chamber  ;  vrhile  Mr. 
Toobad,  rising  slowly,  and  rubbing  his  knees  and  shoulders,  said, 
"  You  see,  my  dear  Scythrop,  in  this  little  incident,  one  of  the  in- 
numerable proofs  of  the  temporary  supremacy  of  the  devil ;  for 
what  but  a  systematic  design  and  concurrent  contrivance  of  evil 
could  have  made  the  angles  of  time  and  place  coincide  in  our  un- 
fortunate persons  at  the  head  of  this  accursed  staircase  ?" 

'•'  Nothing  else,  certainly,"  said  Scythrop  :  "  you  are  perfectly 
in  the  right,  Mr.  Toobad.  Evil,  and  mischief,  and  misery,  and 
confusion,  and  vanity,  and  vexation  of  spirit,  and  death,  and  dis- 
ease, and  assassination,  and  war,  and  poverty,  and  pestilence,  and 
famine,  and  avarice,  and  selfishness,  and  rancour,  and  jealousy, 
and  spleen,  and  malevolence,  and  the  disappointments  of  philan- 
thropy, and  the  faithlessness  of  friendship,  ^nd  the  crosses  of  love 
— all  prove  the  accuracy  of  your  views,  and  the  truth  of  your 
system  ;  and  it  is  not  impossible  that  the  infernal  interruption  of 
this  fall  down  stairs  may  throw  a  colour  of  evil  on  the  whole  of 
my  future  existence." 

"  My  dear  boy,"  said  Mr.  Toobad,  "  you  have  a  fine  eye  for 
consequences." 

So  saying,  he  embraced  Scythrop,  who  retired,  with  a  discon- 
solate step,  to  dress  for  dinner ;  while  Mr.  Toobad  stalked  across 
the  hall,  repeating,  "  Woe  to  the  inhabiters  of  the  earth,  and  of 
the  sea,  for  the  devil  is  come  among  you,  having  great  wrath.'* 


rv.]  NIGHTMARE  ABBEY.  105 


CHAPTER  IV. 

The  flight  of  Marionetta,  and  the  pursuit  of  Scythrop,  had  been 
witnessed  by  Mr.  Glowry,  who,  in  consequence,  narrowly  ob- 
served his  son  and  his  niece  in  the  evening  ;  and,  concluding 
from  their  manner,  that  there  was  a  better  understanding  between 
them  than  he  wished  to  see.  he  determined  on  obtaining  the  next 
morning  from  Scythrop  a  full  and  satisfactory  explanation.  He, 
therefore,  shortly  after  breakfast,  entered  Scythrop's  tower,  with 
a  very  grave  face,  and  said,  without  ceremony  or  preface,  "  So, 
sir,  you  are  in  love  with  your  cousin." 

Scythrop,  with  as  little  hesitation,  answered,   "Yes,  sir." 

"  That  is  candid,  at  least ;  and  she  is  in  love  with  you." 

"  I  wish  she  were,  sir." 

"  You  know  she  is,  sir." 

"  Indeed,  sir,  I  do  not." 

"  But  you  hope  she  is." 

"I  do,  from  my  soul." 

"  Now  that  is  very  provoking,  Scythrop,  and  very  disappoint- 
ing :  I  could  not  have  supposed  that  you,  Scythrop  Glowry,  of 
Nightmare  Abbey,  would  have  been  infatuated  with  such  a  dan- 
cing,  laughing,  singing,  thoughtless,  careless,  merry-hearted 
thing,  as  Marionetta — in  all  respects  the  reverse  of  you  and  me. 
It  is  very  disappointing,  Scythrop.  And  do  you  know,  sir,  that 
Marionetta  has  no  fortune  ?" 

"  It  is  the  more  reason,  sir,  that  her  husband  should  have  one." 

"  The  more  reason  for  her ;  but  not  for  you.  My  wife  had 
no  fortune,  and  I  had  no  consolation  in  my  calamity.  And  do 
you  reflect,  sir,  what  an  enormous  slice  this  law-suit  has  cut  out 
of  our  family  estate  ?  we  who  used  to  be  the  greatest  landed  pro- 
prietors in  Lincolnshire." 

"  To  be  sure,  sir,  we  had  more  acres  of  fen  than  any  man  on 
this  coast :  but  what  are  fens  to  love  ?  What  are  dykes  and 
windmills  to  Marionetta  1" 


106  NIGHTMARE  ABBEY.  Fchap.  iv 


"  And  what,  sir,  is  love  to  a  windmill  ?  Not  grist,  I  am  cer- 
tain :  besides,  sir,  I  have  made  a  choice  for  you.  I  have  made  a 
choice  for  you,  Scythrop.  Beauty,  genius,  accomplishments,  and 
a  great  fortune  into  the  bargain.  Such  a  lovely,  serious  crea- 
ture, in  a  fine  state  of  high  dissatisfaction  with  the  world,  and 
every  thing  in  it.  Such  a  delightful  surprise  I  had  prepared  foi 
you.  Sir,  I  have  pledged  my  honour  to  the  contract — the  honour 
of  the  Glowries  of  Nightmare  Abbey  :  and  now,  sir,  what  is  to  be 
done  ?" 

"  Indeed,  sir,  I  cannot  say.  I  claim,  on  this  occasion,  that 
liberty  of  action  which  is  the  co-natal  prerogative  of  every  ra- 
tional being." 

"  Liberty  of  action,  sir  ?  there  is  no  such  thing  as  liberty  of 
action.  We  are  all  slaves  and  puppets  of  a  blind  and  unpathetic 
necessity." 

"  Very  true,  sir ;  but  liberty  of  action,  betu'een  individuals, 
consists  in  their  being  differently  influenced,  or  modified,  by  the 
same  universal  necessity ;  so  that  the  results  are  unconsentane- 
ous,  and  their  respective  necessitated  volitions  clash  and  fly  off  in 
a  tangent." 

"  Your  logic  is  good,  sir :  but  you  are  aware,  too,  that  one  in- 
dividual m.ay  bo  a  medium  of  adhibiting  to  another  a  mode  or 
form  of  necessity,  which  may  have  more  or  less  influence  in  the 
production  of  consentaneity ;  and,  therefore,  sir,  if  you  do  not 
comply  v/ith  my  wishes  in  this  instance  (you  have  had  your  own 
way  in  every  thing  else),  I  shall  be  under  the  necessity  of  disin- 
heriting you,  though  I  shall  do  it  v/ith  tears  in  my  eyes."  Hav- 
ing said  these  words,  he  vanished  suddenly,  in  the  dread  of  Scy- 
throp's  logic. 

Mr.  Glowry  immediately  sought  Mrs.  Hilary,  and  communi- 
cated to  her  his  views  of  the  case  in  point.  Mrs.  Hilary,  as  the 
phrase  is,  was  as  fond  of  Marionetta  as  if  she  had  been  her  own 
child  :  but — there  is  always  a  hut  on  these  occasions — she  could 
do  nothing  for  her  in  the  way  of  fortune,  as  she  had  two  hopeful 
sons,  who  were  finishing  their  education  at  Brazen-nose,  and  who 
would  not  like  to  encounter  any  diminution  of  their  prospects, 
when  they  should  be  brought  out  of  the  house  of  mental  bondage — 
i.  8.  the  university — to  the  land  flowing  with  milk  and  honey — 
i.  e.  the  west  end  of  London. 


CKAP.  IV.]  NIGHTMARE  ABBEY.  107 

Mrs.  Hilary  hinted  to  Marionctta,  that  propriety,  and  delicac}-, 
and  decorun-!.  and  dignity,  &c.  &c.  &c.,*  would  require  them  to 
leave  the  Abbey  immediately.  Marionetta  listened  in  silent  sub- 
mission,  for  she  knew  that  her  inheritance  was  passive  obedience  ; 
but,  v/lien  Scythrop,  who  had  watched  the  opportunity  of  Mrs. 
Hilary's  departure,  entered,  and,  without  speaking  a  word,  threw 
himself  at  her  feet  in  a  paroxysm  of  grief,  the  young  lady,  in 
equal  silence  and  sorrow,  threw  her  arms  round  his  neck  and 
burst  into  tears.  A  very  tender  scene  ensued,  which  the  sympa- 
thetic susceptibilities  of  the  soft-hearted  reader  can  more  accurate- 
ly imagine  than  we  can  delineate.  But  when  Marionetta  hinted 
that  she  was  to  leave  the  Abbey  immediately,  Scytlirop  snatched 
from  its  repository  his  ancestor's  skull,  filled  it  with  Madeira,  and 
presenting  himself  before  Mr.  Glowry,  threatened  to  drink  off  the 
contents  if  Mr.  Glowry  did  not  immediately  promise  that  Marion- 
etta should  not  be  taken  from  the  Abbey  without  her  own  con- 
sent. Mr.  Glowry,  who  took  the  Madeira  to  be  some  deadly 
brewage,  gave  the  required  promise  in  dismal  panic.  Scythrop 
returned  to  Marionetta  with  a  joyful  heart,  and  drank  the  Madeira 
by  the  way. 

Mr.  Glowry,  during  his  residence  in  London,  had  come  to  an 
agreement  with  his  friend  Mr.  Toobad,  that  a  match  between 
Scythrop  and  Mr.  Toobad's  daughter  would  be  a  very  desirable 
occurrence.  She  was  finishing  her  education  in  a  German  con- 
vent, but  Mr.  Toobad  described  her  as  being  fully  impressed  with 
the  truth  of  his  Ahrimanicf  philosophy,  and  being  altogether  as 
gloomy  and  antithalian  a  young  lady  as   Mr.  Glov/ry  himself 

*  We  are  not  masters  of  the  whole  vocabulary.  See  any  novel  by  any  liter- 
ary lady. 

t  Ahrimanes,  in  the  Persian  mythology,  is  the  evil  power,  the  prince  of  the 
kingdom  of  darkness.  He  is  the  rival  of  Oromazes,  the  prince  of  the  kingdom 
of  light.  These  two  powers  have  divided  and  equal  dominion.  Sometimes  one 
of  the  two  has  a  temporary  supremacy. — According  to  IMr.  Toobad,  the  present 
period  would  be  the  reign  of  Ahrimanes.  Lord  B}Ton  seems  to  be  of  the  same 
opinion,  by  the  use  he  h£is  made  o"  Ahrimanes  in  "  Manfred ;"  where  tlic  great 
Alastor,  or  Kokos  Aainnv,  of  Persia,  is  hailed  king  of  the  world  by  the  Nemesi.'^ 
of  Greece,  in  concert  with  three  of  the  Scandinavian  Valkyroe,  under  the  name 
of  the  Destinies ;  the  astrological  spirits  of  the  alchemists  of  the  middle  ages , 
an  elemental  witch,  transplanted  from  Demnark  to  the  Alps ;  and  a  chorus  of 
Dr.  Faustus's  devils,  who  come  in  tlie  last  act  for  a  soul.     It  is  difficult  to  con  ■ 


108  NIGHTMARE  ABBEY.  [chap.  iv. 

could  desire  for  the  future  mistress  of  Niglitmare  Abbey.  She 
had  a  great  fortune  in  hci*  own  right,  which  was  not,  as  we  have 
seen,  without  its  weight  in  inducing  Mr.  Glowry  to  set  his  heart 
upon  her  as  his  daughter-in-law  that  w^as  to  be  ;  he  was  therefore 
very  much  disturbed  by  Scythrop's  untoward  attachment  to 
IMarionetta.  He  condoled  on  the  occasion  with  Mr.  Toobad ; 
who  said,  that  he  had  been  too  long  accustomed  to  the  intermed- 
dling of  the  devil  in  all  his  affairs,  to  be  astonished  at  this  new 
trace  of  his  cloven  claw ;  but  that  he  hoped  to  outwit  him  yet,  for 
he  was  sure  there  could  be  no  comparison  between  his  daughter 
and  IMarionetta  in  the  mind  of  any  one  who  had  a  proper  percep- 
tion of  the  fact,  that,  the  world  being  a  great  theatre  of  evil, 
seriousness  and  solemnity  are  the  characteristics  of  wisdom,  and 
laughter  and  merriment  make  a  human  being  no  better  than  a 
baboon.  IMr.  Glowry  comforted  himself  w^th  this  view  of  the 
subject,  and  urged  Mr.  Toobad  to  expedite  his  daughter's  return 
from  Germany.  Mr.  Toobad  said  he  was  in  daily  expectation  of 
her  arrivaj  in  London,  and  would  set  off  immediately  to  meet  her, 
that  he  might  lose  no  time  in  bringing  her  to  Nightmare  Abbey. 
"  Then,"  he  added,  "  we  shall  see  whether  Thalia  or  Melpomene 
— whether  the  Allegra  or  the  Penserosa — will  carry  off  the  symbol 
of  victory." — "  There  can  be  no  doubt,"  said  Mr.  Glowry,  "  which 
way  the  scale  will  incline,  or  Scythrop  is  no  true  scion  of  the 
venerable  stem  of  the  Glowrys." 

ceive  where  tliis  heterogeneous  mythological  company  could  have  originally 
met,  except  at  a  table  d'hote,  like  the  six  kmgs  in  "  Candide." 


CHAP,  v.]  NIGHTMARE  ABBEY.  109 


CHAPTER  V. 

Marionetta  felt  secure  of  Scythrop's  heart ;  and  notwithstand- 
ing the  difficulties  that  surrounded  her,  she  could  not  debar  her- 
self from  the  pleasure  of  tormenting  her  lover,  whom  she  kept  in 
a  perpetual  fever.  Sometimes  she  would  meet  him  with  the 
most  unqualified  affection ;  sometimes  with  the  most  chilling  in- 
difference ;  rousing  him  to  anger  by  artificial  coldness — softening 
him  to  love  by  eloquent  tenderness — or  inflaming  him  to  jealousy 
by  coquetting  with  the  Honourable  Mr.  Listless,  who  seemed, 
under  her  magical  influence,  to  burst  into  sudden  life,  like  the 
bud  of  the  evening  primrose.  Sometimes  she  would  sit ^  by  the 
piano,  and  listen  with  becoming  attention  to  Scythrop's  pathetic 
remonstrances  ;  but,  in  the  most  impassioned  part  of  his  oratory, 
she  would  convert  all  his  ideas  into  a  chaos,  by  striking  up  some 
Rondo  Allegro,  and  saying,  "Is  it  not  pretty  ?"  Scythrop  would 
begin  to  storm ;  and  she  would  answer  him  with, 

"  Zitti,  zitti,  piano,  piano, 
Non  facciamo  confiisione,'* 

or  some  similar  facezia,  till  he  would  start  away  from  her,  and 
enclose  himself  in  his  tower,  in  an  agony  of  agitation,  vowing  to 
renounce  her,  and  her  whole  sex,  for  ever ;  and  returning  to  her 
presence  at  the  summons  of  the  billet,  which  she  never  failed  to 
send  with  many  expressions  of  penitence  and  promises  of  amend- 
ment. Scythrop's  schemes  for  regenerating  the  world,  and  de- 
tecting his  seven  golden  candlesticks,  went  on  very  slowly  in  this 
fever  of  his  spirit. 

Things  proceeded  in  this  train  for  several  days;  and  Mr. 
Glowry  began  to  be  uneasy  at  receiving  no  intelligence  from  Mr. 
Toobad ;  when  one  evening  the  latter  rushed  into  the  library, 
where  the  family  and  the  visitors  were  assenbled,  vociferating, 
"  The  devil  is  come  among  you,  having  great  wrath  !"  He  then 
drew  Mr.  Glowry  aside  into  another  apartment,  and  after  remain- 


110  NIGnT:^IATlE  ABBEY.  [chap.  v. 

ing  some  time  together,  they  re-entered  the  library  with  faces  of 
great  dismay,  but  did  not  condescend  to  explain  to  any  one  the 
cause  of  their  discomfiture. 

The  next  morning,  early,  Mr.  Toobad  departed.  Mr.  Glowry 
sighed  and  groaned  all  day,  and  said  not  a  word  to  any  one. 
Scythrop  had  quarrelled,  as  usual,  with  Marionetta,  and  was  en- 
closed in  his  tower,  in  a  fit  of  morbid  sensibility.  Marionetta  was 
comforting  herself  at  the  piano,  with  singing  the  airs  of  Nina 
pazza  per  amore  ;  and  the  Honourable  Mr.  Listless  was  listening 
to  the  harmony,  as  he  lay  supine  on  the  sofa,  with  a  book  in  his 
liand,  into  which  he  peeped  at  intervals.  The  Reverend  Mr. 
Larynx  approached  the  sofa,  and  proposed  a  game  at  billiards. 

HE    HONOURABLE    LLR.    LISTLESS. 

Billiards  !  Really  I  should  be  very  happy  ;  but,  in  my  present 
exhausted  state,  the  exertion  is  too  much  for  me.  I  do  not  knov/ 
when  I  have  been  equal  to  such  an  efibrt.  (He  rang  the  hell  for 
his  valet.  Fatout  entered.)  Fatout !  Vvhen  did  I  play  at  billiards 
last? 

FATOUT. 

De  fourteen  December  de  last  year.  Monsieur.  [Fatout  lowed 
and  retired.) 

THE    HONOURABLE    MR.    LISTLESS. 

So  it  was.  Seven  mojiths  ago.  You  see,  Mr.  Larynx  ;  you 
see,  sir.  My  nerves,  Miss  O'Carroll,  my  nerves  are  shattered. 
I  have  been  advised  to  try  Bath.  Some  of  the  faculty  recom- 
mend Cheltenham.  I  think  of  trying  both,  as  the  seasons  don't 
clash.  The  season,  you  know,  Mr.  Larynx — the  season.  Miss 
O'Carroll — the  season  is  every  thing. 

MARIONETTA. 

And  health  is  something.     Nest-ce  pas,  Mr.  Larynx  ? 

THE    REVEREND    MR.    LARYNX. 

Most  assuredly.  Miss  O'Carroll.  For,  however  reasoners  may 
dispute  about  the  summum  bonum,  none  of  them  will  deny  that  a 
very  good  dinner  is  a  very  good  thing  :  and  what  is  a  good  din- 
ner without  a  good  appetite  ?  and  whence  is  a  good  appetite  but 
from  good  health  ?  Now,  Cheltenham,  Mr.  Listless,  is  famous 
for  good  appetites. 


CHAP,  v.]  NIGHTMARE  ABBEY.  Ill 

THE    HONOURABLE    MR.    LISTLESS. 

The  best  piece  of  logic  I  ever  heard,  Mr.  Larynx  ;  the  very- 
best,  I  assure  you.  I  have  thought  very  seriously  of  Chelten- 
ham :  very  seriously  and  profoundly.  I  thought  of  it — let  me 
see — when  did  I  tliink  of  it  ?  {He  rang  again,  and  Fatout  re-ap- 
peared.)  Fatout !  when  did  I  think  of  going  to  Cheltenham,  and 
did  not  go  ? 

FATOUT. 

De  Juillet  tv/enty-von,  de  last  summer,  Monsieur.  (Fatout 
retired.) 

THE    HONOURABLE    MR.    LISTLESS. 

So  it  was.  An  invaluable  fellow  that,  Mr.  Larynx — invalua- 
ble, Miss  O'Carroll. 

MARIONETTA. 

So  I  should  judge,  indeed.  He  seems  to  serve  you  as  a  walk- 
ing memory,  and  to  be  a  living  chronicle,  not  of  your  actions  only, 
but  of  your  thoughts. 

THE    HONOURABLE    MR.    LISTLESS. 

An  excellent  definition  of  the  fellovv%  Miss  O'Carroll, — excel- 
lent, upon  my  honour.  Ha  !  ha  !  he  !  Heigho  !  Laughter  is 
pleasant,  but  the  exertion  is  too  much  for  me. 

A  parcel  was  brought  in  for  Mr.  Listless ;  it  had  been  sent  ex- 
press. Fatout  was  summoned  to  unpack  it :  and  it  proved  to 
contain  a  new  novel,  and  a  new  poem,  both  of  which  had  long 
been  anxiously  expected  by  the  whole  host  of  fashionable  readers  ; 
and  the  last  number  of  a  popular  Review,  of  which  the  editor  and 
his  coadjutors  were  in  high  favour  at  court,  and  enjoyed  ample 
pensions*  for  their  services  to  church  and  state.  As  Fatout  left 
the  room,  Mr.  Flosky  entered,  and  curiously  inspected  the  lite- 
rary arrivals. 

MR.    FLOSKY. 

(Turning  over  the  leaves.)  "  Devilman,  a  novel."  Hm.  Ha- 
tred— revenge — misanthropy — and  quotations  from  the  Bible. 
Hm.  This  is  the  morbid  anatomy  of  black  bile. — "  Paul  Jones, 
a  poem."     Hm.     I  see  how  it  is.     Paul  Jones,  an  amiable  en- 

*  "  Pension.  Pay  given  to  a  slave  of  state  for  treason  to  his  country."— 
Johnson's  Dictionary. 


112  NIGHTMARE  ABBEY.  [chap.  v. 

thusiast — disappointed  in  his  affections — ^turns  pirate  from  ennui 
and  magnanimity — cuts  various  masculine  throats,  wins  various 
feminine  liearts — is  hanged  at  the  yard-arm  !  The  catastrophe 
is  very  awkward,  and  very  unpoetical. — "  The  Downing  Street 
Review."  Hm.  First  article — An  Ode  to  the  Red  Book,  by 
Roderick  Sackbut,  Esquire.  Hm.  His  own  poem  reviewed  by 
himself.     Hm-m-m. 

{Mr.  Fhsky  proceeded  in  silence  to  look  over  the  other  articles 
of  the  review  ;  Marionetta  inspected  the  novel,  and  Mr.  List- 
less the  jpoem.) 

THE    REVEREND    MR.    LARYNX. 

For  a  young  man  of  fashion  and  family,  Mr.  Listless,  you 
seem  to  be  of  a  very  studious  turn. 

THE    HONOURABLE    MR.    LISTLESS. 

Studious  !  You  are  pleased  to  be  facetious,  Mr.  Larynx.  I 
hope  you  do  not  suspect  me  of  being  studious.  I  have  finished 
my  education.  But  there  are  some  fashionable  books  that  one 
must  read,  because  they  are  ingredients  of  the  talk  of  the  day  ; 
otherwise,  I  am  no  fonder  of  books  than  I  dare  say  you  yourself 
are,  Mr.  Larynx. 

THE    REVEREND    MR.    LARYNX. 

Why,  sir,  I  cannot  say  that  I  am  indeed  particularly  fond  of 
books  ;  yet  neither  can  I  say  that  I  never  do  read.  A  tale  or  a 
poem,  now  and  then,  to  a  circle  of  ladies  over  their  work,  is  no 
very  heterodox  employment  of  the  vocal  energy.  And  I  must 
say,  for  myself,  that  few  men  have  a  more  Job-like  endurance  of 
the  eternally  recurring  questions  and  answers  that  interweave 
themselves,  on  these  occasions,  with  the  crisis  of  an  adventure, 
and  heighten  the  distress  of  a  tragedy. 

THE    HONOURABLE    MR.    LISTLESS. 

And  very  often  make  the  distress  when  the  author  has  omit- 
ted it. 

MARIONETTA. 

I  shall  try  your  patience  some  rainy  morning,  Mr.  Larynx  ; 
and  Mr.  Listless  shall  recommend  us  the  very  newest  new  book, 
that  every  body  reads. 

THE    HONOURABLE    MR.    LISTLESS. 

You  shall  receive  it,  Miss  O'Carroll,  with  all  the  gloss  of  nov. 


CHAP,  v.]  NIGHTMARE  ABBEY.  113 

elty ;  fresh  as  a  ripe  green-gage  in  all  the  downiness  of  its  bloom. 
A  mail-coach  copy  from  Edinburgh,  forwarded  express  from 
London. 

MR.    FLOSKY. 

This  rage  for  novelty  is  the  bane  of  literature.  Except  my 
works  and  those  of  my  particular  friends,  nothing  is  good  that  is 
not  as  old  a,s  Jeremy  Taylor  :  and,  entre  nous,  the  best  parts  of 
my  friends'  books  were  either  written  or  suggested  by  myself. 

THE    HONOURABLE    MR.    LISTLESS. 

Sir,  I  reverence  you.  But  I  must  say,  modern  books  are  very 
consolatory  and  congenial  to  my  feelings.  There  is,  as  it  were, 
a  delightful  north-east  wind,  an  intellectual  blight  breathing 
through  them  ;  a  delicious  misanthropy  and  discontent,  that  dem- 
onstrates the  nullity  of  virtue  and  energy,  and  puts  me  in  good 
humoui'  with  myself  and  my  sofa. 

MR.    FLOSKY. 

Very  true,  sir.  Modern  literature  is  a  north-east  wind — a 
blight  of  the  human  soul.  I  take  credit  to  myself  for  having 
helped  to  make  it  so.  The  way  to  produce  fine  fruit  is  to  blight 
the  flower.  You  call  this  a  paradox.  Marry,  so  be  it.  Ponder 
thereon. 

The  conversation  was  interrupted  by  the  re-appearance  of  Mr. 
Toobad,  covered  with  mud.  He  just  showed  himself  at  the  door, 
muttered  "  The  devil  is  come  among  you  !"  and  vanished.  The 
road  which  connected  Nightmare  Abbey  with  the  civilised  world, 
was  artificially  raised  above  the  level  of  the  fens,  and  ran  through 
them  in  a  straight  line  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  with  a  ditch 
on  each  side,  of  which  the  water  was  rendered  invisible  by  the 
aquatic  vegetation  that  covered  the  surface.  Into  one  of  these 
ditches  the  sudden  action  of  a  shy  horse,  which  took  fright  at  a 
windmill,  had  precipitated  the  travelling  chariot  of  Mr.  Toobad, 
who  had  been  reduced  to  the  necessity  of  scrambling  in  dismal 
plight  through  the  window.  One  of  the  wheels  was  found  to  be 
broken  ;  and  Mr.  Toobad,  leaving  the  postilion  to  get  the  chariot 
as  well  as  he  could  to  Claydyke  for  the  purposes  of  cleaning  and 
repairing,  had  walked  back  to  Nightmare  Abbey,  followed  by  his 
servant  with  the  imperial,  and  repeating  all  the  way  his  favourite 
quotation  from  the  Revelations. 

9 


14  NIGHTMARE  ABBEY.  [chap,  vt 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Mr.  Toobad  had  found  his  daughter  Celinda  in  London,  and 
after  the  first  joy  of  meeting  was  over,  told  her  he  had  a  husband 
ready  for  her.  The  young  lady  replied,  very  gravely,  that  she 
should  take  the  liberty  to  choose  for  herself.  Mr.  Toobad  said 
he  saw  the  devil  was  determined  to  interfere  with  all  his  projects, 
but  he  was  resolved  on  his  own  part,  not  to  have  on  his  conscience 
the  crime  of  passive  obedience  and  non-resistance  to  Lucifer,  and 
therefore  she  should  marry  the  person  he  had  chosen  for  her. 
Miss  Toobad  replied,  ires  jposemcnt,  she  assuredly  would  not. 
"  Celinda,  Celinda,"  said  Mr.  Toobad,  "  you  most  assuredly 
shall." — "  Have  I  not  a  fortune  in  my  own  right,  sir  ?"  said 
Celinda.  "  The  more  is  the  pity,"  said  Mr.  Toobad  :  "  but  I 
can  find  means,  miss  ;  I  can  find  means.  There  are  more  ways 
than  one  of  breaking  in  obstinate  girls."  They  parted  for  the 
night  v/ith  the  expression  of  opposite  resolutions,  and  in  the  morn- 
ing the  young  lady's  chamber  was  found  empty,  and  what  was 
become  of  her  Mr.  Toobad  had  no  clue  to  conjecture.  He  con- 
tinued to  investigate  town  and  country  in  search  of  her ;  visiting 
and  revisiting  Nightmare  Abbey  at  intervals,  to  consult  with  his 
friend,  Mr.  Glowry.  Mr.  Glowry  agreed  with  Mr.  Toobad  that 
this  was  a  very  flagrant  instance  of  filial  disobedience  and  rebel- 
lion ;  and  Mr.  Toobad  declared,  that  when  he  discovered  the.  fu- 
gitive, she  should  find  that  "  the  devil  was  come  unto  her,  having 
great  wrath." 

In  the  evening,  the  whole  party  met,  as  usual,  in  the  library. 
Marionetta  sat  at  the  harp  ;  the  Honourable  Mr.  Listless  sat  by 
her  and  turned  over  her  music,  though  the  exertion  was  almost 
too  much  for  him.  The  Reverend  Mr.  Larynx  relieved  him  oc- 
casionally in  this  delightful  labour.  Scythrop,  tormented  by  the 
demon  Jealousy,  sat  in  the  corner  biting  his  lips  and  fingers. 
Marionetta  looked  at  him  every  now  and  then  with  a  smile  of 
most  provoking  good  humour,  which  he  pretended  not  to  see,  and 


ciTAr.  VI.]  NIGHTMARE  ABBEY.  115 

which  only  the  more  exasperated  his  troubled  spirit.  He  took  down 
a  volume  of  Dante,  and  pretended  to  be  deeply  interested  in  the 
Purgatorio,  though  he  knew  not  a  word  he  was  reading,  as  Mari- 
onetta  was  well  aware  ;  who,  tripping  across  the  room,  peeped 
into  his  book,  and  said  to  him,  '•  I  see  you  are  in  the  middle  of  Pur- 
gatory."— "I  am  in  the  middle  of  hell,"  said  Scythrop  furiously. 
"  Are  you  ?"  said  she  ;  "  then  come  across  the  room,  and  I  will 
sing  you  the  finale  of  Don  Giovanni." 

"  Let  me  alone,"  said  Scythrop.  Marionetta  looked  at  him 
with  a  deprecating  smile,  and  said,  "  You  unjust,  cross  creature, 
you." — "  Let  me  alone,"  said  Scythrop,  but  much  less  emphati- 
cally than  at  first,  and  by  no  means  wishing  to  be  taken  at  his 
word.  Marionetta  left  him  immediately,  and  returning  to  tiie 
harp,  said,  just  loud  enough  for  Scythrop  to  hear — "  Did  you  ever 
read  Dante,  Mr.  Listless  ?  Scythrop  is  reading  Dante,  and  is  just 
now  in  Purgatory." — "  And  I,"  said  the  Honourable  Mr.  Listless, 
"  am  not  reading  Dante,  and  am  just  now  in  Paradise,"  bowing 
to  Marionetta. 

MARIONETTA. 

You  are  very  gallant,  Mr.  Listless  ;  and  I  dare  say  you  are 
very  fond  of  reading  Dante. 

THE    HONOURABLE    MR.    LISTLESS. 

I  don't  know  how  it  is,  but  Dante  never  came  in  my  way  till 
lately.  I  never  had  him  in  my  collection,  and  if  I  had  had  him, 
I  should  not  have  read  him.  But  1  find  he  is  growing  fashionable, 
and  I  am  afraid  I  must  read  him  some  wet  morning. 

MARIONETTA. 

No,  read  him  some  evening,  by  all  means.  Were  you  ever  in 
love,  Mr.  Listless  ? 

THE    HONOURABLE    MR.    LISTLESS. 

I  assure  you.  Miss  O'Carroll,  never — till  I  came  to  Nightmare 
Abbey.  I  dare  say  it  is  very  pleasant ;  but  it  seems  to  give  so 
much  trouble  that  I  fear  the  exertion  would  be  too  much  for  me. 

MARIONETTA. 

Shall  I  teach  you  a  compendious  method  of  courtship,  that  will 
give  you  no  trouble  whatever  ? 


116  NIGHTMARE  ABBEY  [chap.  vi. 

THE    HONOURABLE    MR.    LISTLESS. 

You  will  confer  on  me  an  inexpressible  obligation.  I  am  all 
impatience  to  learn  it. 

MARIONETTA. 

Sit  with  your  back  to  the  lady  and  read  Dante  ;  only  be  sure 
to  begin  in  the  middle,  and  turn  over  three  or  four  pages  at  once 
— backwards  as  well  as  forwards,  and  she  will  immediately  per- 
ceive that  you  are  desperately  in  love  with  her — desperately. 
(The  Honourable  Mr.  Listless  sitting  between  Scythrop  and 
Marionetta,  and  fixing   all   Ms   attention   on   the    beautiful 
speaker,  did  not  observe  Scythrop,  who  was  doing  as  she  de- 
scribed.) 

THE    HONOURABLE    BIR.    LISTLESS. 

You  are  pleased  to  be  facetious,  Miss  O'Carroll.  The  lady 
would  infallibly  conclude  that  I  was  the  greatest  brute  in  town. 

MARIONETTA. 

Far  from  it.  She  would  say,  perhaps,  some  people  have  odd 
methods  of  showing  their  affection. 

THE    HONOURABLE    MR.    LISTLESS. 

But  I  should  think,  A\'ith  submission 

MR.  FLOSKY.     {Joining  them  from  another  part  of  the  room.) 
Did  I  not  hear  Mr.  Listless  observe  that  Dante  is  becoming 
fashionable  ? 

THE    HONOURABLE    MR.    LISTLESS. 

I  did  hazard  a  remark  to  that  effect,  Mr.  Flosky,  though  I 
speak  on  such  subjects  with  a  consciousness  of  my  own  nothing- 
ness, in  the  presence  of  so  great  a  man  as  Mr.  Flosky.  I  know 
not  what  is  the  colour  of  Dante's  devils,  but  as  he  is  certainly  be- 
coming fashionable  I  conclude  they  are  blue ;  for  the  blue  devils, 
as  it  seems  to  me,  Mr.  Flosky,  constitute  the  fundamental  fea- 
ture of  fashionable  literature. 

MR.    FLOSKY. 

The  blue  are,  indeed,  the  staple  commodity  ;  but  as  they  will 
not  always  be  commanded,  the  black,  red,  and  grey  may  be  ad- 
mitted as  substitutes.  Tea,  late  dinners,  and  the  French  Revo- 
lution, have  played  the  devil,  Mr.  Listless,  and  brought  the  devil 
into  play. 


CHAP.  VI.]  NIGHTMARE  ABBEY.  117 

MR.  TOOBAD  [starting  up). 
Having  great  wrath. 

MR.    FLOSKY. 

This  is  no  play  upon  words,  but  the  sober  sadness  of  veritable  fact. 

THE    HONOURABLE    MR.    LISTLESS. 

Tea,  late  dinners,  and  the  French  Revolution.  I  cannot  ex- 
actly see  the  connection  of  ideas. 

MR.    FLOSKY. 

I  should  be  sorry  if  you  could  ;  I  pity  the  man  who  can  see 
the  connection  of  his  own  ideas.  Still  more  do  I  pity  him,  the 
connection  of  whose  ideas  any  other  person  can  see.  Sir,  the 
great  evil  is,  that  there  is  too  much  common-place  light  in  our 
moral  and  political  literature  ;  and  light  is  a  great  enemy  to 
mystery,  and  mystery  is  a  great  friend  to  enthusiasm.  Now  the 
enthusiasm  for  abstract  truth  is  an  exceedingly  fine  thing,  as  long 
as  the  truth,  which  is  the  object  of  the  enthusiasm,  is  so  com- 
pletely abstract  as  to  be  altogether  out  of  the  reach  of  the  human 
faculties  ;  and,  in  that  sense,  I  have  myself  an  enthusiasm  for 
truth,  but  in  no  other,  for  the  pleasure  of  metaphysical  investiga- 
tion lies  in  the  means,  not  in  the  end  ;  and  if  the  end  could  be 
found,  the  pleasure  of  the  means  would  cease.  The  mind,  to  be 
kept  in  health,  must  be  kept  in  exercise.  The  proper  exercise 
of  the  mind  is  elaborate  reasoning.  Analytical  reasoning  is  a 
base  and  mechanical  process,  which  takes  to  pieces  and  examines, 
bit  by  bit,  the  rude  material  of  knowledge,  and  extracts  therefrom 
a  few  hard  and  obstinate  things  called  facts,  every  thing  in  the 
shape  of  which  I  cordially  hate.  But  syntethical  reasoning, 
setting  up  as  its  goal  some  unattainable  abstraction,  like  an  im- 
aginary quantity  in  algebra,  and  commencing  its  course  with 
taking  for  granted  some  two  assertions  which  cannot  be  proved, 
from  the  union  of  these  two  assumed  truths  produces  a  third  as- 
sumption, and  so  on  in  infinite  series,  to  the  unspeakable  benefit 
of  the  human  intellect.  The  beauty  of  this  process  is,  that  at 
every  step  it  strikes  out  into  two  branches,  in  a  compound  ratio 
of  ramification  ;  so  that  you  are  perfectly  sure  of  losing  your 
way,  and  keeping  your  mind  in  perfect  health,  by  the  perpetual 
exercise  of  an  interminable  quest ;  and  for  these  reasons  I  have 
christened  my  eldest  son  Emanuel  Kant  Flosky. 


118  NIGHTMARE  ABBEY.  [chap.  vi. 

THE    REVEREND    MR.    LARYNX. 

Nothino:  can  be  more  luminous. 

THE    HONOURABLE    MR.    LISTLESS. 

And  what  has  all  that  to  do  with  Dante,  and  the  blue  devils  ? 

MR.    HILARY. 

Not  much,  I  should  think,  with  Dante,  but  a  great  deal  with 
the  blue  devils. 

MR.    FLO  SKY. 

It  is  very  certain,  and  much  to  be  rejoiced  at,  that  our  litera- 
ture is  hag-ridden.  Tea  has  shattered  our  nerves  ;  late  dinners 
make  us  slaves  of  indigestion ;  the  French  Revolution  has  made 
us  shrink  from  the  name  of  philosophy,  and  has  destroyed,  in  the 
more  refilled  part  of  the  community  (of  which  number  I  am 
one),  all  enthusiasm  for  political  liberty.  That  part  of  the  read- 
ing 'public  which  shuns  the  solid  food  of  reason  for  the  light  diet  of 
fiction,  requires  a  perpetual  adhibition  of  sauce  piquante  to  the 
palate  of  its  depraved  imagination.  It  lived  upon  ghosts,  goblins, 
and  skeletons  (I  and  my  friend  Mr.  Sackbut  served  up  a  few  of 
the  best),  till  even  the  devil  himself,  though  magnified  to  the  size  of 
Mount  Athos,  became  too  base,  common,  and  popular,  for  its  sur- 
feited appetite.  The  ghosts  have  therefore  been  laid,  and  the  devil 
has  been  cast  into  outer  darkness,  and  now  the  delight  of  our 
spirits  is  to  dwell  on  all  the  vices  and  blackest  passions  of  our 
nature,  tricked  out  in  a  masquerade  dress  of  heroism  and  disap- 
pointed benevolence ;  the  whole  secret  of  which  lies  in  forming 
combinations  that  contradict  all  our  experience,  and  affixing  the 
purple  shred  of  some  particular  virtue  to  that  precise  character, 
in  which  we  should  be  most  certain  not  to  find  it  in  the  living 
world ;  and  making .  this  single  virtue  not  only  redeem  all  the 
real  and  manifest  vices  of  the  character,  but  make  them  actually 
pass  for  necessary  adjuncts,  and  indispensable  accompaniments 
and  characteristics  of  the  said  virtue. 

MR.    TOOBAD. 

That  is,  because  the  devil  is  come  among  us,  and  finds  it  for 
his  interest  to  destroy  all  our  perceptions  of  the  distinctions  of  right 
and  wrong. 

t 


CHAP.  VI.]  NIGHTMARE  ABBEY.  119 

MARIONETTA. 

I  do  not  precisely  enter  into  your  meaning,  Mr.  Flosky,  and 
should  be  glad  if  you  would  make  it  a  little  more  plain  to  me. 

MR.    FLOSKY. 

One  or  two  examples  will  do  it,  Miss  O 'Carroll.  If  I  were  to 
take  all  the  mean  and  sordid  qualities  of  a  money-dealing  Jew, 
and  tack  on  to  them,  as  with  a  nail,  the  quality  of  extreme  be- 
nevolence, I  should  have  a  ver}^  decent  hero  for  a  modern  novel ; 
and  should  contribute  my  quota  to  the  fashionable  method  of  ad- 
ministering a  mass  of  vice,  under  a  thin  and  unnatural  covering 
of  virtue,  like  a  spider  wrapt  in  a  bit  of  gold  leaf,  and  adminis- 
tered as  a  vrholesomo  pill.  On  the  same  principle,  if  a  man 
knocks  me  down,  and  takes  my  purse  and  watch  by  main  force, 
I  turn  him  to  account,  and  set  him  forth  in  a  tragedy  as  a  dash- 
ing young  fellow,  disinherited  for  Yds  romantic  generosity,  and 
full  of  a  most  amiable  hatred  of  the  world  in  general,  and  his 
own  country  in  particular,  and  of  a  most  enlightened  and  chival- 
rous affection  for  himself:  then,  v>'ith  tlic  addition  of  a  v»'ild  girl 
to  fall  in  love  with  him,  and  a  series  of  adventures  in  which  they 
break  all  the  Ten  Commandments  in  succession  (always,  you 
will  observe,  for  some  sublime  motive,  v/hich  must  be  carefully 
analysed  in  its  progress),  I  have  as  amiable  a  pair  of  tragic 
characters  as  ever  issued  from  that  new  region  of  the  belles  let- 
tres,  v/hich  I  have  called  the  Morbid  Anatomy  of  Black  Bile, 
and  which  is  greatly  to  be  admired  and  rejoiced  at,  as  affording 
a  fine  scope  for  the  exhibition  of  mental  power. 

MR.    HILARY. 

Which  is  about  as  w^ell  employed  as  the  power  of  a  hot-house 
would  be  in  forcing  up  a  nettle  to  the  size  of  an  elm.  If  we  go 
on  in  this  way,  we  shall  have  a  new  art  of  poetry,  of  which  one 
of  the  first  rules  will  be :  To  remember  to  forget  that  there  are 
any  such  things  as  sunshine  and  music  in  the  world. 

THE    HONOURABLE    MR.    LISTLESS. 

tt  seems  to  be  the  case  with  us  at  present,  or  we  should  not 
have  interrupted  Miss  O 'Carroll's  music  with  this  exceedingly 
dry  conversation. 


^' 


120  NIGHTMARE  ABBEY.  [chap,  vi 

MR.    FLOSKY. 

I  should  be  most  happy  if  Miss  O 'Carroll  would  remind  us  that 
there  are  yet  both  music  and  sunshine 

THE    HONOURABLE    MR.    LISTLESS. 

In  the  voice  and  the  smile  of  beauty.    May  I  entreat  the  favour 
of — {turning  over  the  pages  of  music?) 
^W  were  silent,  and  Marionetta  sung : — 

Why  are  thy  looks  so  blank,  grey  friar? 

Why  are  thy  looks  so  blue  ? 
Thou  seem'st  more  pale  and  lank,  grey  friar, 

Than  thou  wast  used  to  do : — 

Say,  what  has  made  thee  rue  ? 

Thy  form  was  plump,  and  a  light  did  shine 

In  thy  round  and  ruby  face. 
Which  showed  an  outward  visible  sign 

Of  an  inward  spiritual  grace  : — 

Say,  what  has  changed  thy  case  ? 

Yet  will  I  tell  thee  true,  grey  friar, 

I  veiy  well  can  see, 
That,  if  thy  looks  are  blue,  grey  friar, 

'T  is  all  for  love  of  me, — 

'T  is  all  for  love  of  me. 

But  breathe  not  thy  vows  to  me,  grey  friar, 

Oh,  breathe  them  not,  I  pray ; 
For  ill  beseems  in  a  reverend  friar. 

The  love  of  a  mortal  may  ; 

And  I  needs  must  say  thee  nay. 

But,  could'st  thou  think  my  heart  to  movo 

With  that  pale  and  silent  scowl  ? 
Know,  he  who  would  win  a  maiden's  love, 

Whether  clad  in  cap  or  cowl. 

Must  be  more  of  a  lark  than  an  owl. 

Scythrop  immediately  replaced  Dante  on  the  shelf,  and  joined 
the  circle  round  the  beautiful  singer.  Marionetta  gave  him  a 
smile  of  approbation  that  fully  restored  his  complacency,  and  they 
continued  on  the  best  possible  terms  during  the  remainder  of  the 
evening.  The  Honourable  Mr.  Listless  turned  over  the  leaves 
with  double  alacrity,  saying,  "  You  are  severe  upon  invalids.  Miss 
O'Carroll :  to  escape  your  satire,  I  must  try  to  be  sprightly, 
though  the  exertion  is  too  much  for  me." 


CHAP,  vn]  NIGHTMARE  ABBEY.  121 


CHAPTER  VII.  t 

t 

A  NEW  visitor  arrived  at  the  Abbey,  in  the  person  of  Mr.  As- 
terias,  the  ichthyologist.  This  gentleman  had  passed  his  life  in 
seeking  the  living  wonders  of  the  deep  through  the  four  quarters 
of  the  world :  he  had  a  cabinet  of  stuffed  and  dried  fishes,  of 
shells,  sea- weeds,  corals,  and  madrepores,  that  was  the  admira- 
tion  and  envy  of  the  Royal  Society.  He  had  penetrated  into  the 
watery  den  of  the  Sepia  Octopus,  disturbed  the  conjugal  happi- 
ness of  that  turtle-dove  of  the  ocean,  and  come  off  victorious  in  a 
sanguinary  conflict.  He  had  been  becalmed  in  the  tropical  seas, 
and  had  watched,  in  eager  expectation,  though  unhappily  always 
in  vain,  to  see  the  colossal  polypus  rise  from  the  water,  and  en- 
twine its  enormous  arms  round  the  masts  and  the  rigging.  He 
maintained  the  origin  of  all  things  from  water,  and  insisted  that 
the  polypodes  were  the  first  of  animated  things,  and  that,  from 
their  round  bodies  and  many-shooting  arms,  the  Hindoos  had 
taken  their  gods,  the  most  ancient  of  deities.  But  the  chief  ob- 
ject of  his  ambition,  the  end  and  aim  of  his  researches,  was  to 
discover  a  triton  and  a  mermaid,  the  existence  of  which  he  most 
potently  and  implicitly  believed,  and  was  prepared  to  demonstrate, 
a  priori,  a  posteriori,  a  fortiori,  synthetically  and  analytically, 
syllogistically  and  inductively,  by  arguments  deduced  both  from 
acknowledged  facts  and  plausible  hypotheses.  A  report  that  a 
mermaid  had  been  seen  "  sleeking  her  soft  alluring  locks"  on  the 
sea-coast  of  Lincolnshire,  had  brought  him  in  great  haste  from 
London,  to  pay  a  long-promised  and  often-postponed  visit  to  his 
old  acquaintance,  Mr.  Glowry. 

Mr.  Asterias  was  accompanied  by  his  son,  to  whom  he  had 
given  the  name  of  Aquarius — flattering  himself  that  he  would,  in 
the  process  of  time,  become  a  constellation  among  the  stars  of 
ichthyological  science.  What  charitable  female  had  lent  him  the 
mould  in  which  this  son  was  cast,  no  one  pretended  to  know ; 
and,  as  he  never  dropped  the  most  distant  allusion  to  Aquarius's 


122  NIGHTMARE  ABBEY.  [chap,  vu 

mother,  some  of  the  wags  of  London  maintained  that  he  had  re- 
ceived the  favours  of  a  mermaid,  and  that  the  scientific  perquisi- 
tions which  kept  him  always  prowling  about  the  sea-shore,  were 
directed  by  the  less  philosophical  motive  of  regaining  his  lost 
love. 

Mr.  Asterias  perlustrated  the  sea-coast  for  several  days,  and 
reaped  disappointment,  but  not  despair.  One  night,  shortly  after 
his  arrival,  he  was  sitting  in  one  of  the  windows  of  the  library, 
looking  towards  the  sea,  when  his  attention  was  attracted  by  a 
figure  which  was  moving  near  the  edge  of  the  surf,  and  which 
was  dimly  visible  through  the  moonless  summer  night.  Its  mo- 
tions were  irregular,  like  those  of  a  person  in  a  state  of  indecision. 
It  had  extremely  long  hair,  which  floated  in  the  wind.  What- 
ever else  it  might  be,  it  certainly  was  not  a  fisherman.  It  might 
be  a  lady ;  but  it  was  neither  Mrs.  Hilary  nor  Miss  O'Carroll, 
for  they  were  both  in  the  library.  It  might  be  one  of  the  female 
servants ;  but  it  had  too  much  grace,  and  too  striking  an  air  of 
habitual  liberty,  to  render  it  probable.  Besides,  what  should  one 
of  the  female  servants  be  doing  there  at  this  hour,  moving  to  and 
fro,  as  it  seemed,  without  any  visible  purpose  ?  It  could  scarcely 
be  a  stranger ;  for  Claydyke,  the  nearest  village,  was  ten  miles 
distant ;  and  what  female  would  come  ten  miles  across  the  fens, 
for  no  purpose  but  to  hover  over  the  surf  under  the  walls  of 
Nightmare  Abbey  ?  Might  it  not  be  a  mermaid  ?  It  was  possi- 
bly a  mermaid.  It  was  probably  a  mermaid.  It  was  very  prob- 
ably a  mermaid.  Nay,  what  else  could  it  be  but  a  mermaid  ? 
It  certainly  was  a  mermaid.  Mr.  Asterias  stole  out  of  the  library 
on  tiptoe,  with  his  finger  on  his  lips,  having  beckoned  Aquarius 
to  follow  him. 

The  rest  of  the  party  was  in  great  surprise  at  Mr.  Asterias's 
movement,  and  some  of  them  approached  the  window  to  see  if  the 
locality  would  tend  to  elucidate  the  mystery.  Presently  they  saw 
him  and  Aquarius  cautiously  stealing  along  on  the  other  side  of 
the  moat,  but  they  saw  nothing  more  ;  and  Mr.  Asterias  return- 
ing, told  them,  with  accents  of  great  disappointment,  that  he  had 
had  a  glimpse  of  a  mermaid,  but  she  had  eluded  him  in  tha 
darkness,  and  was  gone,  he  presumed,  to  sup  with  some  en- 
amoured triton,  in  a  submarine  grotto. 

"  But,  seriously,  Mr.  AxSterias,"  said  the  Honourable  Mr.  List- 


CHAP.  VII.]  NIGHTMARE  ABBEY.  123 

less,  "  do  you  positively  believe  there  are  such  things  as  mer- 
maids ?" 

MR.    ASTERIAS. 

Most  assuredly  ;  and  tritons  too. 

THE    HONOURABLE    MR.    LISTLESS. 

What !  things  that  are  half  human  and  half  fish  ? 

BIR.    ASTERIAS. 

Precisely.  They  are  the  oran-outangs  of  the  sea.  But  I  am 
persuaded  that  there  are  also  complete  sea  men,  differing  in  no 
respect  from  us,  but  that  they  are  stupid,  and  covered  with 
scales :  for,  though  our  organisation  seems  to  exclude  us  essen- 
tially from  the  class  of  amphibious  animals,  yet  anatomists  well 
know  that  the  foramen  ovale  may  remain  open  in  an  adult,  and 
that  respiration  is,  in  that  case,  not  necessary  to  life :  and  how 
can  it  be  otherwise  explained  that  the  Indian  divers,  employed  in 
the  pearl  fishery,  pass  whole  hours  under  the  water  ;  and  that 
the  famous  Swedish  gardener  of  Troningholm  lived  a  day  and  a 
half  under  the  ice  without  being  drowned  1  A  nereid,  or  mer- 
maid, was  taken  in  the  year  1403  in  a  Dutch  lake,  and  was  in 
every  respect  like  a  French  woman,  except  that  she  did  not 
speak.  Towards  the  end  of  the  seventeenth  century,  an  English 
ship,  a  hundred  and  fifty  leagues  from  land,  in  the  Greenland 
seas,  discovered  a  flotilla  of  sixty  or  seventy  little  skiffs,  in  each 
of  which  was  a  triton,  or  sea  man :  at  the  approach  of  the 
English  vessel  the  whole  of  them,  seized  with  simultaneous  fear, 
disappeared,  skiffs  and  all,  under  the  water,  as  if  they  had  been 
a  human  variety  of  the  nautilus.  The  illustrious  Don  Feijoo  has 
preserved  an  authentic  and  well-attested  story  of  a  young  Span- 
iard, named  Francis  de  la  Vega,  who,  bathing  with  some  of  his 
friends  in  June,  1674,  suddenly  dived  under  the  sea  and  rose  no 
more.  His  friends  thought  him  drowned :  they  were  plebeians 
and  pious  Catholics ;  but  a  philosopher  might  very  legitimately 
have  drawn  the  same  conclusion. 

THE    REVEREND    MR.    LARYNX. 

Nothing  could  be  more  logical. 

MR.    ASTERIAS. 

Five  years  afterwards,  some  fishermen  near  Cadiz  found  in 


19A  NIGHTMARE   ABBEY.  [chap.  vn. 

their  nets  a  triton,  or  sea  man ;    they  spoke  to  him  in  several 
languages 

THE    REVEREND    MR.    LARYNX. 

They  were  very  learned  fishermen. 

MR.    HILARY. 

Thoy  had  the  gift  of  tongues  by  especial  favour  of  their  brother 
fisherman,  Saint  Peter. 

THE    HONOURABLE    MR.    LISTLESS. 

Is  Saint  Peter  the  tutelar  saint  of  Cadiz  ? 

{None  of  the  company  could  answer  this  question,  and  Mr.  As- 
TERiAs  proceeded.) 

They  spoke  to  him  in  several  languages,  but  he  was  as  mute  as 
a  fish.  They  handed  him  over  to  some  holy  friars,  v/ho  exor- 
cised him  ;  but  the  devil  was  mute  too.  After  some  days  he  pro- 
nounced the  name  Lierganes.  A  monk  took  him  to  that  village. 
His  mother  and  brothers  recognised  and  embraced  him ;  but 
he  was  as  insensible  to  their  caresses  as  any  other  fish  would 
have  been.  He  had  some  scales  on  his  body,  which  dropped  off 
by  degrees ;  but  his  skin  was  as  hard  and  rough  as  shagreen. 
He  stayed  at  home  nine  years,  without  recovering  his  speech  or 
his  reason:  he  then  disappeared  again;  and  one  of  his  old  ac-- 
quaintance,  some  years  after,  saw  him  pop  his  head  out  of  the 
water  near  the  coast  of  the  Asturias.  These  facts  were  certified 
by  his  brothers,  and  by  Don  Gaspardo  de  la  Riba  Aguero,  Knight 
of  Saint  James,  who  lived  near  Lierganes,  and  often  had  the 
pleasure  of  our  triton's  company  to  dinner. — Pliny  mentions  an 
embassy  of  the  Olyssiponians  to  Tiberius,  to  give  him  intelli- 
gence of  a  triton  which  had  been  heard  playing  on  its  shell  in  a 
certain  cave ;  v/ith  several  other  authenticated  facts  on  the  sub- 
ject of  tritons  and  nereids. 

THE    HONOURABLE    MR.    LISTLESS. 

You  astonish  me.  I  have  been  much  on  the  sea-shore,  in  the 
season,  but  I  do  not  think  I  ever  saw  a  mermaid.  {He  rang,  and 
summoned  Fatout,  who  made  his  appearance  half-seas-over.) 
Fatout !  did  I  ever  see  a  mermaid  ? 

FATOUT. 

Mermaid  I  mer-r-m-m-aid  !     Ah  !  merry  maid  !     Oui,  men- 


CHAP,  vn.]  NIGHTMARE  ABBEY.  125 

sieur  !  Yes,  sir,  very  many.  I  vish  dere  vas  von  or  two  here 
in  de  kitchen — ma  foi !  Dey  be  all  as  melancholic  as  so  many 
tombstone. 

THE    HONOURABLE    MR.    LISTLESS. 

I  mean,  Fatout,  an  odd  kind  of  human  fish. 

FATOUT. 

De  odd  fish  !  Ah,  oui  !  I  understand  de  phrase  :  ve  have 
seen  nothing  else  since  ve  left  town — ma  foi ! 

THE    HONOURABLE    MR.    LISTLESS. 

You  seem  to  have  a  cup  too  much,  sir. 

FATOUT. 

Non,  monsieur  :  de  cup  too  little.  De  fen  be  very  unwhole- 
some, and  I  drink-a-de  ponch  vid  Raven  de  butler,  to  keep  out 
de  bad  air. 

THE    HONOURABLE    MR.    LISTLESS. 

Fatout !   I  insist  on  your  being  sober. 

FATOUT. 

Oui,  monsieur ;  I  vil  be  as  sober  as  de  reverendissime  pere 
Jean.  I  should  be  ver  glad  of  de  merry  maid  ;  but  de  butler  be 
de  odd  fish,  and  he  swim  in  de  bowl  de  ponch.  Ah  !  ah  !  I  do 
recollect  de  leetle-a  song  : — "  About  fair  maids,  and  about  fair 
maids,  and  about  my  merry  maids  all."  (Fatout  reeled  out, 
singing.) 

THE    HONOURABLE    MR.    LISTLESS. 

I  am  overwhelmed :  I  never  saw  the  rascal  in  such  a  condition 
before.  But  will  you  allow  me,  Mr.  Asterias,  to  inquire  into  the 
cui  bono  of  all  the  pains  and  expense  you  have  incurred  to  dis- 
cover a  mermaid  ?  The  cui  bono,  sir,  is  the  question  I  always 
take  the  liberty  to  ask  when  I  see  any  one  taking  much  trouble 
for  any  object.  I  am  myself  a  sort  of  Signor  Pococurante,  and 
should  like  to  know  if  there  be  any  thing  better  or  pleasanter, 
than  the  state  of  existing  and  doing  nothing  ? 

MR.    ASTERIAS. 

I  have  made  many  voyages,  Mr.  Listless,  to  remote  and  barren 
shores  :  I  have  travelled  over  desert  and  inhospitable  lands  :  I 
have  defied  danger — I  have  endured  fatigue — I  have  submitted  to 
privation.     In  the  midst  of  these  I  have  experienced  pleasures 


126  NIGHTMARE  ABBEY.  [chap.  vii. 

which  I  would  not  at  any  time  have  exchanged  for  that  of  exist- 
ing and  doing  nothing.  I  have  known  many  evils,  but  I  have 
never  known  the  worst  of  all,  which,  as  it  seems  to  me,  are  those 
which  are  comprehended  in  the  inexhaustible  varieties  of  ennui : 
spleen,  chagrin,  vapours,  blue  devils,  time-killing,  discontent, 
misanthropy,  and  all  their  interminable  train  of  fretfulness,  quer- 
ulousness,  suspicions,  jealousies,  and  fears,  which  have  alike  in- 
fected society,  and  the  literature  of  society  ;  and  which  would 
make  an  arctic  ocean  of  the  human  mind,  if  the  more  humane 
pursuits  of  philosophy  and  science  did  not  keep  alive  the  better 
feelings  and  more  valuable  energies  of  our  nature. 

THE    HONOURABLE    MR.    LISTLESS. 

You  are  pleased  to  be  severe  upon  our  fashionable  belles  let- 
tres. 

MR.    ASTERIAS. 

Surely  not  without  reason,  when  pirates,  highv/aymen,  and 
other  varieties  of  the  extensive  genus  Marauder,  are  the  only  beau 
ideal  of  the  active,  as  splenetic  and  railing  misanthropy  is  of  the 
speculative  energy.  A  gloomy  brow  and  a  tragical  voice  seem 
to  have  been  of  late  the  characteristics  of  fashionable  manners  : 
and  a  morbid,  withering,  deadly,  antisocial  sirocco,  loaded  with 
moral  and  political  despair,  breathes  through  all  the  groves  and 
valleys  of  the  modern  Parnassus  ;  while  science  moves  on  in  the 
calm  dignity  of  its  course,  affording  to  youth  delights  equally 
pure  and  vivid — to  maturity,  calm  and  grateful  occupation — to 
old  age,  the  most  pleasing  recollections  and  inexhaustible  mate- 
rials of  agreeable  and  salutary  reflection  ;  and,  v/hile  its  votary 
enjoys  the  disinterested  pleasure  of  enlarging  the  intellect  and  in- 
creasing the  comforts  of  society,  he  is  himself  independent  of  the 
caprices  of  human  intercourse  and  the  accidents  of  human  for- 
tune. Nature  is  his  great  and  inexhaustible  treasure.  His  days 
are  always  too  short  for  his  enjoyment :  ennui  is  a  stranger  to  his 
door.  At  peace  with  the  world  and  with  his  own  mind,  he  suf- 
fices to  himself,  makes  all  around  him  happy,  and  the  close  of 
his  pleasing  and  beneficial  existence  is  the  evening  of  a  beautiful 
day.* 

*  See  Denys  Montfort :  Histoire  Naturelle  des  Mollusques ;  Vues  Gen^rales, 
pp.  37,  38. 


CHAP,  vii]  NIGHTMARE  ABBEY.  127 

THE    HONOURABLE    MR.    LISTLESS. 

Really  I  should  like  very  well  to  lead  such  a  life  myself,  but 
the  exertion  would  be  too  much  for  me.  Besides,  I  have  been  at 
college.  I  contrive  to  get  through  my  day  by  sinking  the  morn- 
ing in  bed,  and  killing  the  evening  in  company  ;  dressing  and 
dining  in  the  intermediate  space,  and  stopping  the  chinks  and 
crevices  of  the  few  vacant  moments  that  remain  with  a  little  easy 
reading.  And  that  amiable  discontent  and  antisociality  which 
you  reprobate  in  our  present  drawing-room-table  literature,  I  find, 
I  do  assure  you,  a  very  fine  mental  tonic,  which  reconciles  me  to 
my  favourite  pursuit  of  doing  nothing,  by  showing  me  that  nobody 
is  worth  doing  any  thing  for. 

MARIONETTA. 

But  is  there  not  in  such  compositions  a  kind  of  unconscious 
self-detection,  \vliich  seems  to  carry  their  own  antidote  with  them  ? 
For  surely  no  one  who  cordially  and  truly  either  hates  or  de- 
spises the  world  will  publish  a  volume  every  three  months  to 
say  so. 

MR.    FLOSKY. 

There  is  a  secret  in  all  this,  which  I  will  elucidate  with  a 
dusky  remark.  According  to  Berkeley,  the  esse  of  things  is  per- 
dpi.  They  exist  as  they  are  perceived.  But,  leaving  for  the 
present,  as  far  as  relates  to  the  material  world,  the  materialists, 
hyloists,  and  antihyloists,  to  settle  this  point  among  them,  which 
is  indeed 

A  subtle  question,  raised  among 

Those  out  o'  their  wits,  and  those  i'  the  wrong : 

for  only  we  transcendentalists  are  in  the  right:  we  may  very 
safely  assert  that  the  esse  of  happiness  is  percipi.  It  exists  as  it 
is  perceived.  "It  is  the  mind  that  maketh  well  or  ill."  The 
elements  of  pleasure  and  pain  are  every  where.  The  degree  of 
happiness  that  any  circumstances  or  objects  can  confer  on  us  de- 
pends on  the  mental  disposition  with  which  we  approach  them. 
If  you  consider  what  is  meant  by  the  common  phrases,  a  happy 
disposition  and  a  discontented  temper,  you  will  perceive  that  the 
truth  for  which  I  am  contending  is  universally  admitted. 

(Mr.  Flosky  suddenly  stopjjed  :   he  found  himself  unintention- 
ally trespassing  within  the  limits  of  common  sense.) 


128  NIGHTMARE  ABBEY.  [chap,  vii 

MR.    HILARY. 

It  is  very  true ;  a  happy  disposition  finds  materials  of  enjoy- 
ment every  where.  In  the  city,  or  the  country — in  society, 
or  in  solitude — in  the  theatre,  or  the  forest — in  the  hum  of  the 
multitude,  or  in  the  silence  of  the  mountains,  are  alike  materials 
of  reflection  and  elements  of  pleasure.  It  is  one  mode  of  pleasure 
to  listen  to  the  music  of  "  Don  Giovanni,"  in  a  theatre  glittering 
with  light,  and  crowded  with  elegance  and  beauty  :  it  is  another 
to  glide  at  sunset  over  the  bosom  of  a  lonely  lake,  where  no  sound 
disturbs  the  silence  but  the  motion  of  the  boat  through  the  waters. 
A  happy  disposition  derives  pleasure  from  both,  a  discontented 
temper  from  neither,  but  is  always  busy  in  detecting  deficiencies, 
and  feeding  dissatisfaction  with  comparisons.  The  one  gathers 
all  the  flowers,  the  other  all  the  nettles,  in  its  path.  The  one  has 
the  faculty  of  enjoying  every  thing,  the  other  of  enjoying  noth- 
ing. The  one  realises  all  the  pleasure  of  the  present  good  ;  the 
other  converts  it  into  pain,  by  pining  after  something  better,  which 
is  only  better  because  it  is  not  present,  and  which,  if  it  v/ere  pres- 
ent, v/ould  not  be  enjoyed.  These  morbid  spirits  are  in  life  what 
professed  critics  are  in  literature  ;  they  see  nothing  but  faults, 
because  they  are  predetermined  to  shut  their  eyes  to  beauties. 
The  critic  does  his  utmost  to  blight  genius  in  its  infancy  ;  that 
which  rises  in  spite  of  him  he  will  not  see  ;  and  then  he  com- 
plains of  the  decline  of  literature.  In  like  manner,  these  cankers 
of  society  complain  of  human  nature  and  society,  when  they  have 
wilfully  debarred  themselves  from  all  the  good  they  contain,  and 
done  their  utmost  to  blight  their  ov»'n  happiness  and  that  of  all 
around  them.  Misanthropy  is  sometimes  the  product  of  disap- 
pointed benevolence  ;  but  it  is  more  frequently  the  offspring  of 
overweening  and  mortified  vanity,  quarrelling  with  the  world  for 
not  being  better  treated  than  it  deserves. 

scYTHROP  (to  Marionetta). 
These  remarks  are  rather  uncharitable.  There  is  great  good 
in  human  nature,  but  it  is  at  present  ill-conditioned.  Ardent 
spirits  cannot  but  be  dissatisfied  with  things  as  they  are  ;  and,  ac- 
cording to  their  views  of  the  probabilities  of  amelioration,  they 
will  rush  into  the  extremes  of  either  hope  or  despair — of  which 
the  first  is  enthusiasm,  and  the  second  misanthropy  ;  but  their 


c^n^T.  vu  i  NIGHTMARE  ABBEY.  129 

sources  in  this  case  are  the  same,  as  the  Severn  and  the  Wye  run 

in  different  directions  ;  and  both  rise  in  Plinlinimon. 

MARIONETTA. 

"  And  there  is  salmon  in  both  ;"  for  the  resemblance  is  about 
as  close  as  that  between  Macedon  and  Monmouth. 


10 


J30  NIGHTMARE  ABBEY.  Fcjup. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

Marionetta  observed  the  next  day  a  remarkable  perturbation 
in  Scythrop,  for  which  she  could  not  imagine  any  probable  cause. 
She  was  willing  to  believe  at  first  that  it  had  some  transient  and 
trifling  source,  and  would  pass  off  in  a  day  or  two  ;  but,  contrary 
to  this  expectation,  it  daily  increased.  She  was  well  aware  that 
Scythrop  had  a  strong  tendency  to  the  love  of  mystery,  for  its  own 
sake  ;  that  is  to  say,  he  would  employ  mystery  to  serve  a  purpose, 
but  would  first  choose  his  purpose  by  its  capability  of  mystery. 
He  seemed  now  to  have  more  mystery  on  his  hands  than  the  laws 
of  the  system  allowed,  and  to  wear  his  coat  of  darkness  with  an 
air  of  great  discomfort.  All  her  little  playful  arts  lost  by  degrees 
much  of  their  power,  either  to  irritate  or  to  soothe  ;  and  the  first 
perception  of  her  diminished  influence  produced  in  her  an  imme- 
diate depression  of  spirits,  and  a  consequent  sadness  of  demeanour, 
that  rendered  her  very  interesting  to  Mr.  Gbwry  ;  who,  duly 
considering  the  improbability  of  accomplishing  his  wishes  with  re- 
spect to  Miss  Toobad  (which  improbability  naturally  increased  in 
the  diurnal  ratio  of  that  young  lady's  absence),  began  to  reconcile 
himself  by  degrees  to  the  idea  of  Marionetta  being  his  daughter. 

Marionetta  made  many  ineffectual  attempts  to  extract  from  Scy- 
throp the  secret  of  his  mystery ;  and,  in  despair  of  drawing  it 
from  himself,  began  to  form  hopes  that  she  might  find  a  clue  to  it 
from  Mr.  Flosky,  who  was  Scythrop's  dearest  friend,  and  was  more 
frequently  than  any  other  person  admitted  to  his  solitary  tower. 
Mr.  Flosky,  however,  had  ceased  to  be  visible  in  a  morning.  He 
was  engaged  in  the  composition  of  a  dismal  ballad  ;  and,  Marion- 
etta's  uneasiness  overcoming  her  scruples  of  decorum,  she  deter- 
mined to  seek  him  in  the  apartment  which  he  had  chosen  for  his 
study.  She  tapped  at  the  door,  and  at  the  sound  "  Come  in,"  en- 
tered the  apartment.  It  was  noon,  and  the  sun  was  shining  in 
full  spendour,  much  to  the  annoyance  of  Mr.  Flosky,  who  had 
obviated  the  inconvenience  by  closing  the  shutters,  and  drawing 


CHAP,  viii.]  NIGHTMARE  ABBEY.  131 


the  window-curtains.  He  was  sitting  at  his  table  by  the  light  of 
a  solitary  candle,  with  a  pen  in  one  hand,  and  a  muffineer  in  the 
other,  with  which  he  occasionally  sprinkled  salt  on  the  wick,  to 
make  it  burn  blue.  He  sate  with  "  his  eye  in  a  fine  frenzy  roll- 
ing," and  turned  his  inspired  gaze  on  Marionetta  as  if  she  had 
been  the  ghastly  ladie  of  a  magical  vision ;  then  placed  his  hand 
before  his  eyes,  with  an  appearance  of  manifest  pain — shook  his 
head — withdrew  his  hand — rubbed  his  eyes,  like  a  waking  man — 
and  said,  in  a  tone  of  ruefulness  most  jeremitaylorically  pathetic, 
*' To  what  am  Pto  attribute  this  very  unexpected  pleasure,  my 
dear  Miss  O'Carroll  ?" 

MARIONETTA. 

I  must  apolgoize  for  intruding  on  you,  Mr.  Flosky ;  but  the 
interest  which  I — you — take  in  my  cousin  Scythrop 

MR.    FLOSKY. 

Pardon  me.  Miss  O'Carroll ;  I  do  not  take  any  interest  in  any 
person  or  thing  on  the  face  of  the  earth  ;  which  sentiment,  if  you 
analyse  it,  you  will  find  to  be  the  quintessence  of  the  most  refined 
philanthropy. 

MARIONETTA. 

I  will  take  it  for  granted  that  it  is  so,  Mr.  Flosky ;  I  am  not 
conversant  with  metaphysical  subtleties,  but 

MR.    FLOSKY. 

Subtleties !  my  dear  Miss  O'Carroll.  I  am  sorry  to  find  you 
participating  in  the  vulgar  error  of  the  reading  piihlic,  to  whom 
an  unusual  collocation  of  words,  involving  a  juxtaposition  of  an- 
liperistatical  ideas,  immediately  suggests  the  notion  of  hyperoxy- 
sophistical  paradoxology. 

MARIONETTA. 

Indeed,  Mr.  Flosky,  it  suggests  no  such  notion  to  me.  I  have 
sought  you  for  the  purpose  of  obtaining  information. 

MR.  FLOSKY  (shaking  his  head). 
No  one  ever  sought  me  for  such  a  purpose  before. 

MARIONETTA. 

1  think,  Mr.  Flosky — that  is,  I  believe — that  is,  I  fancy — that 
is,  I  imagine ' 


132  NIGHTMARE  ABBEY.  [chap,  viii 

MR.    FLOSKY. 

The  ravrtcrri,  the  id  cst,  the  doc,  the  c^cst  a  dire,  the  that  is,  my 
dear  Miss  O'Carroll,  is  not  applicable  in  this  case — if  you  will 
permit  me  to  take  the  liberty  of  saying  so.  Think  is  not  synony- 
mous with  believe — for  belief,  in  many  most  important  particu- 
lars, results  from  the  total  absence,  the  absolute  negation  of  thought, 
and  is  thereby  the  sane  and  orthodox  condition  of  mind ;  and 
thought  and  belief  are  both  essentially  different  from  fancy,  and 
fancy,  again,  is  distinct  from  imagination.  This  distinction  be- 
tween fancy  and  imagination  is  one  of  the  most  abstruse  and  im- 
portant points  of  metaphysics.  I  have  written  seven  hundred 
pages  of  promise  to  elucidate  it,  which  promise  I  shall  keep  as 
faithfully  as  the  bank  will  its  promise  to  pay. 

WARIONETTA. 

I  assure  you,  Mr.  Flosky,  I  care  no  more  about  metaphysics 
thaiJi  I  do  about  the  bank  ;  and,  if  you  will  condescend  to  talk  to 
a  simple  girl  in  intelligible  terms 

MR.    FLOSKY. 

Say  not  condescend  !  Know  you  not  that  you  talk  to  the  most 
humble  of  men,  to  one  who  has  buckled  on  the  armour  of  sanctity, 
and  clothed  himself  with  humility  as  with  a  garment  ? 

MARIONETTA. 

My  cousin  Scythrop  has  of  late  had  an  air  of  mystery  about 
him,  which  gives  me  great  uneasiness. 

MR.    FLOSKY. 

That  is  strange :  nothing  is  so  becoming  to  a  man  as  an  air  of 
mystery.  Mystery  is  the  very  key-stone  of  all  that  is  beautiful 
in  poetry,  all  that  is  sacred  in  faith,  and  all  that  is  recondite  in 
transcendental  psychology.  I  am  writing  a  ballad  which  is  all 
mystery ;  it  is  "  such  stuff  as  dreams  are  made  of,"  and  is,  in- 
deed, stuff  made  of  a  dream ;  for,  last  night  I  fell  asleep  as  usual 
over  my  book,  and  had  a  vision  of  pure  reason.  I  composed  five 
hundred  lines  in  my  sleep ;  so  that,  having  had  a  dream  of  a 
ballad,  I  am  now  officiating  as  my  own  Peter  Quince,  and  making 
a  ballad  of  my  dream,  and  it  shall  be  called  Bottom's  Dream,  be- 
cause it  has  no  bottom. 

MARIONETTA. 

I  see,  Mr.  Flosky,  you  think  my  intrusion  unseasonable,  and 


CHAP.  VIII.]  NIGHTMARE  ABBEY.  13j 

are  inclined  to  punish  it,  by  talking  nonsense  to  mc.  {Mr.  Flosby 
gave  a  start  at  the  loord  nonsense,  which  almost  overturned  the 
table.)  I  assure  you  I  v/ould  not  have  intruded  if  I  had  not  been 
very  much  interested  in  the  question  I  v/ish  to  ask  you. — [Mr. 
Flosky  listened  in  sullen  dignity.) — My  cousin  Scythrop  seems  to 
have  some  secret  preying  on  his  mand. — [Mr.  Flosky  was  silent.) — 
He  seems  very  unhappy — Mr.  Flofeky. — Perhaps  you  are  ac- 
quainted with  the  cause. — [Mr.  Flosky  ivas  still  silent.) — I  only 
wish  to  know — Mr.  Flosky — if  it  is  any  thing — that  could  be 
remedied  by  any  thing — that  any  one — of  whom  I  know  any  thing 
— could  do. 

MR.  FLOSKY  (after  a  pause). 
There  are  various  ways  of  getting  at  secrets.  The  most  ap- 
proved methods,  as  recommended  both  theoretically  and  practi- 
cally in  philosophical  novels,  are  eaves-dropping  at  key-holes, 
picking  the  locks  of  chests  and  desks,  peeping  into  letters,  steam- 
ing wafers,  and  insinuating  hot  wire  under  sealing-wax ;  none  of 
which  methods  I  hold  it  lawful  to  practise. 

MARIONETTA. 

Surely,  Mr.  Flosky,  you  cannot  suspect  me  of  wishing  to  adopt 
or  encourage  such  base  and  contemptible  arts. 

MR.    FLOSKY. 

Yet  are  they  recommended,  and  v/ith  well-strung  reasons,  by 
writers  of  gravity  and  note,  as  simple  and  easy  methods  of  study, 
ing  character,  and  gratifying  that  laudible  curiosity  which  aims 
at  the  knowledge  of  man. 

MARIONETTA. 

I  am  as  ignorant  of  this  morality  which  you  do  not  approve,  as 
of  the  metaphysics  which  you  do :  I  should  be  glad  to  know  by 
your  means,  what  is  the  matter  with  my  cousin ;  I  do  not  like  to 
see  him  unhappy,  and  I  suppose  there  is  some  reason  for  it. 

MR.    FLOSKY. 

Now  I  should  rather  suppose  there  is  no  reason  for  it :  it  is  the 
fashion  to  be  unhappy.  To  have  a  reason  for  being  so  would  be 
exceedingly  common-place :  to  be  so  without  any  is  the  province 
of  genius :  the  art  of  being  miserable  for  misery's  sake,  has  been 
brought  10  great  perfection  in  our  days  ;  and  the  ancient  Odyssey, 
which  held  forth  a  shining  example  of  the  endurance  of  real  mis- 


134  NIGHTMARE  ABBEY.  [chap.  vm. 

fortune,  Avill  give  place  to  a  modern  one,  setting  out  a  more  in- 
structive picture  of  querulous  impatience  under  imaginary  evils. 

MARIONETTA. 

Will  you  oblige  me,  Mr.  Flosky,  by  giving  me  a  plain  answer 
to  a  plain  question  ? 

MR.    FLOSKY. 

It  is  impossible,  my  dear  Miss  O 'Carroll.  I  never  gave  a  plain 
answer  to  a  question  in  my  life. 

MARIONETTA. 

Do  you,  or  do  you  not,  know  what  is  the  matter  with  my  cou- 
sin ? 

MR.    FLOSKY. 

To  say  that  I  do  not  know,  would  be  to  say  that  I  am  ignorant 
of  something ;  and  God  forbid,  that  a  transcendental  metaphysi- 
cian, who  has  pure  anticipated  cognitions  of  every  thing,  and 
carries  the  whole  science  of  geometry  in  his  head  without  ever 
having  looked  into  Euclid,  should  fall  into  so  empirical  an  error 
as  to  declare  himself  ignorant  of  any  thing  :  to  say  that  I  do  know, 
v/ould  be  to  pretend  to  positive  and  circumstantial  knowledge 
touching  present  matter  of  fact,  which,  when  you  consider  the  na- 
ture of  evidence,  and  the  various  lights  in  which  the  same  thing 
may  be  seen 

MARIONETTA. 

I  see,  Mr.  Flosky,  that  either  you  have  no  information,  or  are 
determined  not  to  impart  it ;  and  I  beg  your  pardon  for  having 
given  you  this  unnecessary  trouble. 

MR.    FLOSKY. 

My  dear  Miss  O'Carroll,  it  would  have  given  me  great  pleasure 
to  have  said  any  thing  that  would  have  given  you  pleasure ;  but 
if  any  person  living  could  make  report  of  having  obtained  any 
information  on  any  subject  from  Ferdinando  Flosky,  my  tran- 
scendental  reputation  would  be  ruined  for  ever. 


CHAP,  ix.]  NIGHTMARE  ABBEY.  135 


CHAPTER  IX. 

ScYTHROP  grew  every  day  more  reserved,  mysterious,  and  dis- 
trait ;  and  gradually  lengthened  the  duration  of  his  diurnal  se- 
clusions in  his  tower.  Marionetta  thought  she  perceived  in  all 
this  very  manifest  symptoms  of  a  warm  love  cooling. 

It  was  seldom  that  she  found  herself  alone  with  him  in  the 
morning,  and,  on  these  occasions,  if  she  was  silent  in  the  hope  of 
his  speaking  first,  not  a  syllable  would  he  utter ;  if  she  spoke  to 
him  indirectly,  he  assented  monosyllabically ;  if  she  questioned 
him,  his  answers  were  brief,  constrained,  and  evasive.  Still,  though 
her  spirits  were  depressed,  her  playfulness  had  not  so  totally 
forsaken  her,  but  that  it  illuminated  at  intervals  the  gloom  of 
Nightmare  Abbey ;  and  if,  on  any  occasion,  she  observed  in 
Scythrop  tokens  of  unextinguished  or  returning  passion,  her  love 
of  tormenting  her  lover  immediately  got  the  better  both  of  her 
grief  and  her  sympathy,  though  not  of  her  curiosity,  which  Scy- 
tlirop  seemed  determined  not  to  satisfy.  This  playfulness,  how- 
ever, was  in  a  great  measure  artificial,  and  usually  vanished 
with  the  irritable  Strephon,  to  whose  annoyance  it  had  been  ex- 
erted. The  Genius  Loci,  the  tutela  of  Nightmare  Abbey,  the 
spirit  of  black  melancholy,  began  to  set  his  seal  on  her  pallescent 
countenance.  Scythrop  perceived  the  change,  found  his  tender 
sympathies  awakened,  and  did  his  utmost  to  comfort  the  afflicted 
damsel,  assuring  her  that  his  seeming  inattention  had  only  pro- 
ceeded  from  his  being  involved  in  a  profound  meditation  on  a  very 
hopeful  scheme  for  the  regeneration  of  human  society.  Marion- 
etta called  him  ungrateful,  cruel,  cold-hearted,  and  accompanied 
her  reproaches  with  many  sobs  and  tears  :  poor  Scythrop  growing 
every  moment  more  soft  and  submissive — till,  at  length,  he  threw 
himself  at  her  feet,  and  declared  that  no  competition  of  beauty, 
however  dazzling,  genius,  however  transcendent,  talents,  however 
cultivated,  or  philosophy,  however  enlightened,  should  ever  make 
him  renounce  his  divine  Marionetta. 


136  NIGHTMARE  ABBEY.  [chap.  ix. 

"  Competition !"  thought  Marionetta,  and  suddenly,  with  an  air 
of  the  most  freezing  indilibrence,  she  said,  "You  are  perfectly  at 
liberty,  sir,  to  do  as  you  please ;  I  beg  you  will  follow  your  -wn 
plans,  without  any  reference  to  me." 

Scythrop  was  confounded.  What  v/as  become  of  all  her  pas-= 
sion  and  her  tears  ?  Still  kneeling,  he  kissed  her  hand  with  rue- 
ful timidity,  and  said,  in  most  pathetic  accents,  "  Do  you  not  love 
me,  Marionetta  ?" 

"  No,"  said  Marionetta,  with  a  look  of  cold  composure  :  "  No." 
Scythrop  still  looked  up  incredulously.     "  No,  I  tell  you." 

"  Oh  !  very  well,  madam,"  said  Scythrop,  rising,  "  if  that  is 
the  case,  there  are  those  in  the  world '' 

"  To  be  sure  there  are,  sir  ; — and  do  you  suppose  I  do  not  see 
through  your  designs,  you  ungenerous  monster  ?" 

"  My  designs  ?     Marionetta  !" 

"  Yes,  your  designs,  Scythrop.  You  have  come  here  to  cast 
me  off,  and  artfully  contrive  that  it  should  appear  to  be  my  doing, 
and  not  yours,  thinking  to  quiet  your  tender  conscience  with  this 
pitiful  stratagem.  But  do  not  suppose  that  you  are  of  so  much 
consequence  to  me  :  do  not  suppose  it :  you  are  of  no  consequence 
to  me  at  all — none  at  all :  therefore,  leave  me  :  I  renounce  you  : 
leave  me  ;  why  do  you  not  leave  m.e  ?" 

Scythrop  endeavoured  to  remonstrate,  but  without  success. 
She  reiterated  her  injunctions  to  him  to  leave  her,  till,  in  the  sim- 
plicity of  his  spirit,  he  was  preparing  to  comply.  When  he  had 
nearly  reached  the  door,  Marionetta  said,  "  Farewell."  Scythrop 
looked  back.  "  Farewell,  Scythrop,"  she  repeated,  "  you  will 
never  see  me  again." 

"  Never  see  you  again,  Marionetta  ?" 

"  I  shall  go  from  hence  to-morrow,  perhaps  to-day ;  and  before 
we  meet  again,  one  of  us  will  be  married,  and  we  might  as  well 
be  dead,  you  know,  Scythrop." 

The  sudden  change  of  her  voice  in  the  last  few  words,  and  the 
burst  of  tears  that  accompanied  them,  acted  like  electricity  on  the 
tender-hearted  youth  ;  and,  in  another  instant,  a  complete  recon- 
ciliation was  accomplished  without  the  intervention  of  words. 

There  are,  indeed,  some  learned  casuists,  who  maintain  that 
love  has  no  language,  and  that  all  the  misunderstandings  and  dis- 
sensions of  lovers  arise  from  the  fatal  habit  of  employing  words 


CHA?.  IX.]  NIGHTMARE  ABBEY.  137 

on  a  subject  to  which  words  are  inapplicable  ;  that  love,  begin- 
ning with  looks,  that  is  to  say,  with  the  physiognomical  expression 
of  congenial  mental  dispositions,  tends  through  a  regular  gradation 
of  signs  and  symbols  of  affection,  to  that  consummation  which  is 
most  devoutly  to  be  wished  ;  and  that  it  neither  is  necessary  that 
there  should  be,  nor  probable  that  there  would  be,  a  single  word 
spoken  from  first  to  last  between  two  sympathetic  spirits,  were  it 
not  that  the  arbitrary  institutions  of  society  have  raised,  at  every 
step  of  this  very  simple  process,  so  many  complicated  impedi- 
ments and  barriers  in  the  shape  of  settlements  and  ceremonies, 
parents  and  guardians,  lawyers,  Jew-brokers,  and  parsons,  that 
many  an  adventurous  knight  (who,  in  order  to  obtain  the  conquest 
of  the  Hesperian  fruit,  is  obliged  to  fight  his  v/ay  through  all 
these  monsters,)  is  either  repulsed  at  the  onset,  or  vanquished  be- 
fore the  achievement  of  his  enterprise  :  and  such  a  quantity  of 
unnatural  talking  is  rendered  inevitably  necessary  through  all  the 
stages  of  the  progression,  that  the  tender  and  volatile  spirit  of 
love  often  takes  flight  on  the  pinions  of  some  of  the  e-a  ^rrcpoevra,  or 
loinged  words,  which  are  pressed  into  his  service  in  despite  of 
himself. 

At  this  conjuncture,  ]Mr.  Glowry  entered,  and  sitting  dov/n 
near  them,  said,  "  I  see  how  it  is  ;  and,  as  v/e  are  all  sure  to  be 
miserable  do  what  we  may,  there  is  no  need  of  taking  pains  to 
make  one  another  more  so ;  therefore,  with  God's  blessing  and 
mine,  there  " — joining  their  hands  as  he  spoke. 

Scythrop  was  not  exactly  prepared  for  this  decisive  step  ;  but 
he  could  only  stammer  out,  "  Really,  sir,  you  are  too  good  ;" 
and  Mr.  Glowry  departed  to  bring  Mr.  Hilary  to  ratify  the  act. 

Now,  whatever  truth  there  may  be  in  the  theory  of  love  and 
language,  of  which  we  have  so  recently  spoken,  certain  it  is,  that 
during  Mr.  Glowry's  absence,  which  lasted  half  an  hour,  not  a 
suigle  word  was  said  by  either  Scythrop  or  Marionetta. 

Mr.  Glowry  returned  with  Mr.  Hilary,  who  vras  delighted  at 
the  prospect  of  so  advantageous  an  establishment  for  his  orphan 
niece,  of  whom  he  considered  himself  in  some  manner  the  guar- 
dian, and  nothing  remained,  as  Mr.  Glowry  observed,  but  to  fix 
the  day. 

Marionetta  blushed,  and  was  silent.     Scythrop  was  also  silent 


138  NIGHTMARE  ABBEY.  [chap.  ix. 

for  a  time,  and  at  length  hesitatingly  said,  "  My  dear  sir,  your 
goodness  overpowers  me  ;  but  really  you  are  so  precipitate." 

Now,  this  remark,  if  the  young  lady  had  made  it,  would, 
whether  she  thought  it  or  not — for  sincerity  is  a  thing  of  no  ac- 
count on  these  occasions,  nor  indeed  on  any  other,  according  to 
Mr.  Flosky — this  remark,  if  the  young  lady  had  made  it,  would 
have  been  perfectly  comme  ilfaut ;  but,  being  made  by  the  young 
gentleman,  it  was  ioute  autre  chose,  and  was,  indeed,  in  the  eyes 
of  his  mistress,  a  most  heinous  and  irremissible  offence.  Mari- 
onetta  was  angry,  very  angry,  but  she  concealed  her  anger,  and 
said,  calmly  and  coldly,  "  Certainly,  you  are  much  too  precipi- 
tate, Mr.  Glowry.  I  assure  you,  sir,  I  have  by  no  means  made 
up  my  mind  ;  and,  indeed,  as  far  as  I  know  it,  it  inclines  the 
other  way  ;  but  it  will  be  quite  time  enough  to  think  of  these 
matters  seven  je&Ys  hence."  Before  surprise  permitted  reply, 
the  young  lady  had  locked  herself  up  in  her  own  apartment. 

"  Why  Scythrop,"  said  Mr.  Glowry,  elongating  his  face  ex- 
ceedingly, "  the  devil  is  come  among  us  sure  enough,  as  Mr.  Too- 
bad  observes  :  I  thought  you  and  Marionetta  were  both  of  a  mind." 

"  So  we  are,  I  believe,  sir,"  said  Scythrop,  gloomily,  and  stalked 
away  to  nis  tower. 

"  Mr.  Glowry,"  said  Mr.  Hilary,  '•  I  do  not  very  well  under- 
stand all  this." 

"Whims,  brother  Hilary,"  said  Mr.  Glowry;  "some  little 
foolish  love  quarrel,  nothing  more.  Whims,  freaks,  April  showers. 
They  will  be  blown  over  by  to-morrow\" 

"  If  not,"  said  Mr.  Hilary,  "  these  April  showers  have  made 
us  April  fools." 

"  Ah  !"  said  Mr.  Glowry,  "  you  are  a  happy  man,  and  in  all 
your  afflictions  you  can  console  yourself  with  a  joke,  let  it  be 
ever  so  bad,  provided  you  crack  it  yourself  I  should  be  very 
happy  to  laugh  with  you,  if  it  would  give  you  any  satisfaction  ; 
hut,  really,  at  present,  my  heart  is  so  sad,  that  I  find  it  impossible 
to  levy  a  contribution  on  my  muscles." 


NIGHTMARE  ABBEY.  139 


CHAPTER   X. 

On  the  evening  on  which  Mr.  Asterias  had  caught  a  glimpse 
of  a  female  figure  on  the  sea-shore,  which  he  had  translated  into 
the  visual  sign  of  his  interior  cognition  of  a  mermaid,  Scythrop, 
retiring  to  his  tower,  found  his  study^prc-occupied.  A  stranger, 
muffled  in  a  cloak,  was  sitting  at  liis  tabic.  Scythrop  paused  in 
surprise.  The  stranger  rose  at  his  entrance,  and  looked  at  him 
intently  a  few  minutes,  in  silence.  The  eyes  of  the  stranger 
alone  were  visible.  All  the  rest  of  the  figure  was  muffled  and 
mantled  in  the  folds  of  a  black  cloak,  which  was  raised,  by  the 
right  hand,  to  the  level  of  the  eyes.  This  scrutiny  being  com- 
pleted, the  stranger,  dropping  the  cloak,  said,  "  I  see,  by  your 
physiognomy,  that  you  may  be  trusted  ;"  and  revealed  to  the  as- 
tonished Scythrop  a  female  form  and  countenance  of  dazziing 
grace  and  beauty,  with  long  flowing  hair  of  raven  blackness, 
and  large  black  eyes  of  almost  oppressive  brilliancy,  which  stri- 
kingly contrasted  with  a  complexion  of  snowy  whiteness.  Her 
dress  was  extremely  elegant,  but  had  an  appearance  of  foreign 
fashion,  as  if  both  the  lady  and  her  mantaamaker  were  of  '•  a  far 
countree." 

"  I  guess  't  was  frightful  there  to  see 
A  lady  so  richly  clad  as  she, 
Beautiful  exceedingly." 

For,  if  it  be  terrible  to  one  young  lady  to  find  another  under 
a  tree  at  midnight,  it  must,  a  fortiori,  be  much  more  terrible  to  a 
young  gentleman  to  find  a  young  lady  in  his  study  at  that  hour. 
If  the  logical  consecutiveness  of  this  conclusion  be  not  manifest 
to  my  readers,  I  am  sorry  for  their  dulness,  and  must  refer  them, 
for  more  ample  elucidation,  to  a  treatise  which  Mr.  Flosky  in- 
tends to  write,  on  the  Categories  of  Relation,  which  comprehend 
Substance  and  Accident,  Cause  and  Effect,  Action  and  Re-action. 

Scythrop,  therefore,  either  was  or  ought  to  have  been  frighten- 


140  NIGHTMARE  ABBEY.  [chap.  x. 

ed  ;  at  all  events,  he  was  astonished ;  and  astonishment,  though 
not  in  itself  fear,  is  nevertheless  a  good  stage  towards  it,  and  is, 
indeed,  as  it  were,  the  half-way  house  between  respect  and  ter- 
ror, according  to  Mr.  Burke's  graduated  scale  of  the  sublime.* 

^'  You  are  surprised,"  said  the  lady ;  "  yet  why  should  you  be 
surprised  ?  If  you  had  met  me  in  a  drawing-room,  and  I  had 
been  introduced  to  you  by  an  old  wonan,  it  would  have  been  a 
matter  of  course  :  can  the  division  of  two  or  three  walls,  and  the 
absence  of  an  unimportant  personage,  make  the  same  object  es- 
sentially difierent  in  the  perception  of  a  philosopher  ?" 

"  Certainly  not,"  said  Scythrop  ;  "  but  when  any  class  of  ob- 
jects  has  habitually  presented  itself  to  our  perceptions  in  invariable 
conjunction  with  particular  relations,  then,  on  the  sudden  appear- 
ance of  one  object  of  the  class  divested  of  those  accompaniments, 
the  essential  difference  of  the  relation  is,  by  an  involuntary  pro- 
cess, transferred  to  the  object  itself,  which  thus  offers  itself  to 
our  perceptions  with  all  the  strangeness  of  novelty." 

"  You  are  a  philosopher,"  said  the  lady,  "  and  a  lover  of  lib- 
erty. You  are  the  author  of  a  treatise,  called  '  Philosophical 
Gas ;  or,  a  Project  foi'  a  General  Illumination  of  the  Human 
Mind.' " 

"  I  am,"  said  Scythrop,  delighted  at  this  first  blossom  of  his 
renown. 

"  I  am  a  stranger  in  this  country,"  said  the  lady ;  "  I  have 

*  There  must  be  some  mistake  in  this,  for  the  whole  honourable  band  of  gen- 
tlemen pensioners  has  resolved  unanimously,  that  Mr.  Burke  was  a  very  sub- 
lune  person,  particularly  after  he  had  prostituted  his  own  soul,  and  betrayed  his 
country  and  mankind,  for  1200Z.  a  year :  yet  he  does  not  appear  to  have  been 
a  very  terrible  personage,  and  certainly  went  off  with  a  very  small  portion  of 
human  respect,  though  he  contrived  to  excite,  in  a  great  degree,  the  astonish- 
ment of  all  honest  men.  Our  immaculate  laureate  (who  gives  us  to  mider- 
stand  that,  if  he  had  not  been  purified  by  holy  matrimony  into  a  mystical  type, 
he  would  have  died  a  virgin,)  is  another  sublime  gentleman  of  the  same  genus  ; 
he  very  much  astonished  some  persons  when  he  sold  his  birthright  for  a  pot  of 
sack  ;  but  not  even  his  Sosia  has  a  grain  of  respect  for  him,  though,  doubtless, 
he  thinks  his  name  very  terrible  to  the  enemy,  when  he  flourishes  his  critico- 
poeticopolitical  tomahawk,  and  sets  up  his  Indian  yell  for  the  blood^f  his  old 
friends:  but,  at  best,  lie  is  a  mere  political  scarecrow,  a  man  of  straw,  ridicu- 
lous to  all  who  know  of  what  materials  he  is  made  ;  and  to  none  more  so,  than 
to  those  who  have  stuffed  him,  and  set  him  up,  as  the  Priapus  of  the  garden  of 
the  golden  apples  of  corruption. 


CHAP,  x.]  NIGHTMARE  ABBEY.  141 

been  but  a  few  days  in  it,  yet  I  find  myself  immediately  under 
the  necessity  of  seeking  refuge  from  an  atrocious  persecution.  I 
had  no  friend  to  whom  I  could  apply ;  and,  in  the  midst  of  my 
difficulties,  accident  threw  your  pamphlet  in  my  way.  I  saw 
that  I  had,  at  least,  one  kindred  mind  in  this  nation,  and  deter- 
mined to  apply  to  you." 

"  And  what  would  you  have  me  do  ?"  said  Scythrop,  more  and 
more  amazed,  and  not  a  little  perplexed. 

"  I  would  have  you,"  said  the  young  lady,  "  assist  me  in  find- 
ing some  place  of  retreat,  where  I  can  remain  concealed  from 
the  indefatigable  search  that  is  being  made  for  me.  I  have  been 
so  nearly  caught  once  or  tvv'ice  already,  that  I  cannot  confide 
any  longer  in  my  own  ingenuity." 

Doubtless,  thought  ScytLvop,  this  is  one  of  my  golden  candle- 
sticks. "  I  have  constructed,"  said  he,  "  in  this  tower,  an  en- 
trance to  a  small  suite  of  unknov/n  apartments  in  the  main 
building,  which  I  defy  any  creature  living  to  detect.  If  you 
would  like  to  remain  there  a  day  or  two,  till  I  can  find  you  a 
more  suitable  concealment,  you  may  rely  on  the  honour  of  a 
transcendental  eleutherarch." 

"  I  rely  on  myself,"  said  the  lady.  "  I  act  as  I  please,  go 
where  I  please,  and  let  the  world  say  what  it  will.  I  am  rich 
enough  to  set  it  at  defiance.  It  is  the  tyrant  of  the  poor  and  the 
feeble,  but  the  slave  of  those  who  are  above  the  reach  of  its  in- 
jury." 

Scythrop  ventured  to  inquire  the  name  of  his  fair  protegee. 
"  What  is  a  name  ?"  said  the  lady :  "  any  name  will  serve  the 
purpose  of  distinction.  Call  me  Stella.  I  see  by  your  looks," 
she  added,  "  that  you  think  all  this  very  strange.  When  you 
know  me  better,  your  surprise  will  cease.  I  submit  not  to  be  an 
accomplice  in  my  sex's  slavery.  I  am,  like  yourself,  a  lover  of 
freedom,  and  I  carry  my  theory  into  practice.  They  alone  are 
subject  to  Wind  authority  who  have  no  reliance  on  their  oiun 
strength. ^^ 

Stella  took  possession  of  the  recondite  apartments.  Scythrop 
intended  to  find  her  another  asylum  ;  but  from  day  to  day  he 
postponed  his  intention,  and  by  degrees  forgot  it.  The  young 
lady  reminded  him  of  it  from  day  to  day,  till  she  also  forgot  it. 
Scythrop  was  anxious  to  learn  her  history  j  but  she  would  add 


142  NIGHTMARE  ABBEY.  [chap,  x 

nothing  to  what  she  had  already  communicated,  that  she  was 
shunning  an  atrocious  persecution.  Scythrop  thought  of  Lord  C. 
and  the  Alien  Act,  and  said,  "  As  you  will  not  tell  your  name,  I 
suppose  it  is  in  the  green  bag."  Stella,  not  understanding  what 
he  meant,  was  silent ;  and  Scythrop,  translating  silence  into  ac- 
quiescence, concluded  that  he  was  sheltering  an  illuminee  whom 
Lord  S.  suspected  of  an  intention  to  take  the  Tower,  and  set  fire 
to  the  Bank :  exploits,  at  least,  as  likely  to  be  accomplished  by 
the  hands  and  eyes  of  a  young  beauty,  as  by  a  drunken  cobbler 
and  doctor,  armed  with  a  pamphlet  and  an  old  stocking. 

Stella,  in  her  conversations  with  Scythrop,  displayed  a  highly 
cultivated  and  energetic  mind,  full  of  impassioned  schemes  of 
liberty,  and  impatience  of  masculine  usurpation.  She  had  a 
lively  sense  of  all  the  oppressions  that  are  done  under  the  sun ; 
and  the  vivid  pictures  which  her  imagination  presented  to  her  of 
the  numberless  scenes  of  injustice  and  misery  which  are  being 
acted  at  every  moment  in  every  part  of  the  inhabited  world,  gave 
an  habitual  seriousness  to  her  physiognomy,  that  made  it  seem  as 
if  a  smile  had  never  once  hovered  on  her  lips.  She  was  inti- 
mately conversant  with  the  German  lann-uao-e  and  literature ; 
and  Scythrop  listened  with  delight  to  her  repetitions  of  her  favour- 
ite passages  from  Schiller  and  Goethe,  and  to  her  encomiums  on 
the  sublime  Spartacus  Wcishaupt,  the  immortal  founder  of  the 
sect  of  the  Illuminati.  Scythrop  found  that  his  soul  had  a  greater 
capacity  of  love  than  the  image  of  Marionetta  had  filled.  The 
form  of  Stella  took  possession  of  every  vacant  corner  of  the 
cavity,  and  by  degrees  displaced  that  of  Marionetta  from  many 
of  the  outworks  of  the  citadel  ;  though  the  latter  still  held  posses- 
sion of  the  keep.  He  judged,  from  his  new  friend  calling  herself 
Stella,  that,  if  it  were  not  her  real  name,  she  was  an  admirer  of 
the  principles  of  the  German  play  from  which  she  had  taken  it, 
and  took  an  opportunity  of  leading  the  conversation  to  that  sub- 
ject ;  but  to  his  great  surprise,  the  lady  spoke  very  ardently  of 
the  singleness  and  exclusiveness  of  love,  and  declared  that  the 
reign  of  affection  was  one  and  indivisible  ;  that  it  might  be  trans- 
ferred, but  could  not  be  participated.  "  If  I  ever  love,"  said  she, 
''  I  shall  do  so  without  limit  or  restriction.  I  shall  hold  all  diffi- 
culties light,  all  sacrifices  cheap,  all  obstacles  gossamer.  But  for 
love  so  total,  I  shall  claim  a  return  as  absolute.     I  will  have  no 


CHAP.  X.]  NIGHTMARE  ABBEY.  143 

rival :  whether  more  or  less  favoured  will  be  of  little  moment.  I 
will  be  neither  first  nor  second — I  will  be  alone.  The  heart 
which  I  shall  possess  I  will  possess  entirely,  or  entirely  renounce." 
Scythrop  did  not  dare  to  mention  the  name  of  Marionetta  :  he 
trembled  lest  some  unlucky  accident  should  reveal  it  to  Stella, 
though  he  scarcely  knew  what  result  to  wish  or  anticipate,  and 
lived  in  the  double  fever  of  a  perpetual  dilemma.  He  could  not 
dissemble  to  himself  that  he  was  in  love,  at  the  same  time,  with 
two  damsels  of  minds  and  habits  as  remote  as  the  antipodes.  The 
scale  of  predilection  always  inclined  to  the  fair  one  who  happened 
to  be  present ;  but  the  absent  was  never  effectually  outweighed, 
though  the  degrees  of  exaltation  and  depression  varied  according 
to  accidental  variations  in  the  outward  and  visible  signs  of  the 
inward  and  spiritual  graces  of  his  respective  charmers.  Passing 
and  repassing  several  times  a  day  from  the  company  of  the  one 
to  that  of  the  other,  he  was  like  a  shuttlecock  between  two  battle, 
dores,  changing  its  direction  as  rapidly  as  the  oscillations  of  a 
pendulum,  receiving  many  a  hard  knock  on  the  cork  of  a  sensi- 
tive heart,  and  flying  from  point  to  point  on  the  feathers  of  a  su- 
per-sublimated head.  This  was  an  awful  state  of  things.  He 
had  now  as  much  mystery  about  him  as  any  romantic  transcen- 
dentalist  or  transcendental  romancer  could  desire.  He  had  his 
esoterical  and  his  exoterical  love.  He  could  not  endure  the 
thought  of  losing  either  of  them,  but  he  trembled  when  he  ima- 
gined the  possibility  that  some  fatal  discovery  might  deprive  him 
of  both.  The  old  proverb  concerning  two  strings  to  a  bow  gave 
him  some  gleams  of  comfort ;  but  that  concerning  two  stools  oc- 
curred to  him  more  frequently,  and  covered  his  forehead  with  a 
cold  perspiration.  With  Stella,  he  could  indulge  freely  in  all 
his  romantic  and  philosophical  visions.  He  could  build  castles 
in  the  air,  and  she  would  pile  towers  and  turrets  on  the  imagin- 
ary edifices.  With  Marionetta  it  was  otherwise  :  she  knew  no- 
thing of  the  world  and  society  beyond  the  sphere  of  her  own  ex- 
perience. Her  life  was  all  music  and  sunshine,  and  she  wonder- 
ed what  any  one  could  see  to  complain  of  in  such  a  pleasant 
state  of  things.  She  loved  Scythrop,  she  hardly  knew  why  ;  in- 
deed she  was  not  always  sure  that  she  loved  him  at  all :  she  felt 
her  fondness  increase  or  diminish  in  an  inverse  ratio  to  his. 
When  she  had  manoeuvred  him  into  a  fever  of  passionate  love, 


144  NIGHTMARE  ABBEY.  [chap.  x. 

she  often  felt  and  always  assumed  indifTerence  :  if  she  found  that 
her  coldness  was  contagious,  and  that  Scythrop  either  was,  or 
pretended  to  be,  as  indifferent  as  herself,  she  would  become  doubly 
kind,  and  raise  him  again  to  that  elevation  from  which  she  had 
previously  thrown  him  down.  Thus,  when  his  love  was  flowing, 
hers  was  ebbing  :  when  his  was  ebbing,  hers  was  flowing.  Now 
and  then  there  were  moments  of  level  tide,  v/hen  reciprocal  affec- 
tion seemed  to  promise  imperturbable  harmony  ;  but  Scythrop 
could  scarcely  resign  his  spirit  to  the  pleasing  illusion,  before  the 
pinnace  of  the  lover's  affections  was  caught  in  some  eddy  of  the 
lady's  caprice,  and  he  was  whirled  away  from  the  shore  of  his 
hopes,  without  rudder  or  compass,  into  an  ocean  of  mists  and 
storms.  It  resulted,  from  this  system  of  conduct,  that  all  that 
passed  between  Scythrop  and  Marionetta  consisted  in  making 
and  unmaking  love.  He  had  no  opportunity  to  take  measure  of 
her  understanding  by  conversations  on  general  subjects,  and  on 
his  favourite  designs  ;  and,  being  left  in  this  respect  to  the  exer- 
cise of  indefinite  conjecture,  he  took  it  for  granted,  as  most  lovers 
would  do  in  similar  circumstances,  that  she  had  great  natural 
talents,  which  she  wasted  at  present  on  trifles :  but  coquetry  would 
end  v/ith  marriage,  and  leave  room  for  philosophy  to  exert  its  influ- 
ence on  her  mind.  Stella  had  no  coquetry,  no  disguise  :  she  was 
an  enthusiast  in  subjects  of  general  interest ;  and  her  conduct 
to  Scythrop  was  always  uniform,  or  rather  showed  a  regular  pro- 
gression of  partiality  which  seemed  fast  ripening  into  love. 


CHAP.  XI.]  NIGHTMARE  ABBEY.  145 


CHAPTER  XI. 

ScYTHROP,  attending  one  day  the  summons  to  dinner,  found  in 
the  drawing-room  his  friend  Mr.  Cypress  the  poet,  whom  he  had 
known  at  college,  and  who  was  a  great  favourite  of  Mr.  Glowry. 
Mr.  Cypress  said,  he  was  on  the  point  of  leaving  England,  but 
could  not  think  of  doing  so  without  a  farewell-look  at  Nightmare 
Abbey  and  his  respected  friends,  the  moody  Mr.  Glowry  and  the 
mysterious  Mr.  Scythrop,  the  sublime  Mr.  Flosky  and  the  pathetic 
Mr,  Listless ;  to  all  of  whom,  and  the  morbid  hospitality  of  the 
melancholy  dwelling  in  which  they  were  then  assembled,  he  as- 
sured them  he  should  always  look  back  with  as  much  affection  as 
his  lacerated  spirit  could  feel  for  any  thing.  The  sympathetic 
condolence  of  their  respective  replies  was  cut  short  by  Raven's 
announcement  of  "  dinner  on  table." 

The  conversation  that  took  place  when  the  wine  was  in  circu- 
lation, and  the  ladies  were  withdrawn,  we  shall  report  with  our 
usual  scrupulous  fidelity. 

MR.    GLOWRY. 

You  are  leaving  England,  Mr.  Cypress.  There  is  a  delightful 
melancholy  in  saying  farewell  to  an  old  acquaintance,  when  the 
chances  are  twenty  to  one  against  ever  meeting  again.  A  smiling 
bumper  to  a  sad  parting,  and  let  us  all  be  unhappy  together. 

MR.  CYPRESS  (Jilling  a  bumper). 
This  is  the  only  social  habit  that  the  disappointed  spirit  never 
unlearns. 

THE    REVEREND    MR.    LARYNX    {jilling). 

It  is  the  only  piece  of  academical  learning  that  the  finished  ed- 
ucatee  retains. 

MR.    FLOSKY    {filling). 

It  is  the  only  objective  fact  which  the  sceptic  can  realise.    • 

SCYTHROP  {filling). 
It  is  the  only  styptic  for  a  bleeding  heart 

11 


146  NIGHTMARE  ABBEY.  [chap,  xl 

THE    HONOURABLE    MR.    LISTLESS    {filling). 

It  is  the  only  trouble  that  is  very  well  worth  taking. 

MR.    ASTERIAS    {filling). 

It  is  the  only  key  of  conversational  truth. 

MR.    TOOBAD    {filling). 

It  is  the  only  antidote  to  the  great  wrath  of  the  devil. 

MR.    HILARY    {filling). 

It  is  the  only  symbol  of  perfect  life.  The  inscription  "  hic 
NON  BiBiTUR  ^'  wiU  suit  nothing  but  a  tombstone. 

MR.    GLOWRY. 

You  will  see  many  fine  old  ruins,  Mr.  Cypress ;  crumbling 
pillars,  and  mossy  walls — many  a  one-legged  Venus  and  headless 
Minerva — many  a  Neptune  buried  in  sand — many  a  Jupiter  turned 
topsy-turvy — many  a  perforated  Bacchus  doing  duty  as  a  water- 
pipe — many  reminiscences  of  the  ancient  world,  which  I  hope 
was  better  worth  living  in  tlian  the  modern  ;  though,  for  myself, 
I  ca-re  not  a  straw  more  for  one  than  the  other,  and  would  not  go 
twenty  miles  to  see  any  thing  that  either  could  show. 

MR.    CYPRESS. 

It  is  something  to  seek,  Mr.  Glowry.  The  mind  is  restless, 
and  must  persist  in  seeking,  though  to  find  is  to  be  disappointed. 
Do  you  feel  no  aspirations  towards  the  countries  of  Socrates  and 
Cicero  ?  No  wish  to  wander  among  the  venerable  remains  of  the 
greatness  that  has  passed  for  ever  1 

MR.    GLOWRY. 

Not  a  grain. 

SCYTHROP. 

It  is,  indeed,  much  the  same  as  if  a  lover  should  dig  up  the 
buried  form  of  his  mistress,  and  gaze  upon  relics  which  are  any 
thing  but  herself,  to  wander  among  a  few  mouldy  ruins,  that  are 
only  imperfect  indexes  to  lost  volumes  of  glory,  and  meet  at  every 
step  the  more  melancholy  ruins  of  human  nature — a  degenerate 
race  of  stupid  and  shrivelled  slaves,  grovelling  in  the  lowest 
depths  of  servility  and  superstition. 

THE    HONOURABLE    MR.    LISTLESS. 

It  is  the  fashion  to  go  abroad.  I  have  thought  of  it  myself,  but 
am  hardly  equal  to  the  exertion.     To  be  sure,  a  little  eccen- 


CHAP.  XI.]  NIGHTMARE  ABBEY.  147 

tricity  and  originality  are  allowable  in  some  cases ;  and  the  most 
eccentric  and  original  of  all  characters  is  an  Englishman  who 
stays  at  home. 

SCYTHROP. 

I  should  have  no  pleasure  in  visiting  countries  that  are  past  all 
hope  of  regeneration.  There  is  great  hope  of  our  own  ;  and  it 
seems  to  me  that  an  Englishman,  who,  either  by  his  station  in 
society,  or  by  his  genius,  or  (as  in  your  instance,  Mr.  Cypress,) 
by  both,  has  the  power  of  essentially  serving  his  country  in  its 
arduous  struggle  with  its  domestic  enemies,  yet  forsakes  his  coun- 
try, which  is  still  so  rich  in  hope,  to  dwell  in  others  which  are 
only  fertile  in  the  ruins  of  memory,  does  what  none  of  those  an- 
cients, whose  fragmentary  memorials  you  venerate,  would  have 
done  in  similar  circumstances. 

MR.   CYPRESS. 

Sir,  I  have  quarrelled  with  my  wife  ;  and  a  man  who  has 
quarrelled  with  his  wife  is  absolved  from  all  duty  to  his  country. 
I  have  written  an  ode  to  tell  the  people  as  much,  and  they  may 
take  it  as  they  list. 

SCYTHROP. 

Do  you  suppose,  if  Brutus  had  quarrelled  with  his  wife,  he 
would  have  given  it  as  a  reason  to  Cassius  for  having  nothing  to 
do  with  his  enterprise  ?  Or  would  Cassius  have  been  satisfied 
with  such  an  excuse  ? 

MR.   FLOSKY. 

Brutus  was  a  senator ;  so  is  our  dear  friend  :  but  the  cases  are 
different.  Brutus  had  some  hope  of  political  good  :  Mr.  Cypress 
has  none.     How  should  he,  after  what  we  have  seen  in  France  ? 

SCYTHROP. 

A  Frenchman  is  born  in  harness,  ready  saddled,  bitted,  and 
bridled,  for  any  tyrant  to  ride.  He  will  fawn  under  his  rider  one 
moment,  and  throw  him  and  kick  him  to  death  the  next ;  but  an- 
other adventurer  springs  on  his  back,  and  by  dint  of  whip  and 
spur  on  he  goes  as  before.  We  may,  without  much  vanity,  hope 
better  of  ourselves. 

MR.    CYPRESS. 

I  have  no  hope  for  myself  or  for  others.     Our  life  is  a  false 


148  NIGHTMARE  ABBEY.  [chap.  xi. 

nature ;  it  is  not  in  the  harmony  of  things ;  it  is  an  all-blasting 
upas,  whose  root  is  earth,  and  whose  leaves  are  the  skies  which 
rain  their  poison-dews  upon  mankind.  We  wither  from  our 
youth  ;  we  gasp  with  unslaked  thirst  for  unattainable  good  ;  lured 
from  the  first  to  the  last  by  phantoms — love,  fame,  ambition,  ava- 
rice— all  idle,  and  all  ill — one  meteor  of  many  names,  that  van- 
ishes in  the  smoke  of  death.* 

MR.    FLOSKY. 

A  most  delightful  speech.  Mr.  Cypress.  A  most  amiable  and 
instructive  philosophy.  You  have  only  to  impress  its  ti'uth  on 
the  minds  of  all  living  men,  and  life  will  then,  indeed,  be  the 
desert  and  the  solitude ;  and  I  must  do  you  myself,  and  our  mu- 
tual jEi'iends,  the  justice  to  observe,  that  let  society  only  give  fair 
play  at  one  and  the  same  time,  as  I  flatter  myself  it  is  inclined  to 
do,  to  your  system  of  morals,  and  my  system  of  metaphysics,  and 
Scythrop's  system  of  politics,  and  Mr.  Listless's  system  of  man- 
ners, and  Mr.  Toobad's  system  of  religion,  and  the  result  will  be 
as  fine  a  mental  chaos  as  even  the  immortal  Kant  himself  could 
ever  have  hoped  to  see ;  in  the  prospect  of  which  I  rejoice. 

MR.    HILARY. 

"  Certainly,  ancient,  it  is  not  a  thing  to  rejoice  at :"  I  am  one 
of  those  who  cannot  see  the  good  that  is  to  result  from  all  this 
mystifying  and  blue-devilling  of  society.  The  contrast  it  presents 
to  the  cheerful  and  solid  wisdom  of  antiquity  is  too  forcible  not  to 
strike  any  one  who  has  the  least  knowledge  of  classical  literature. 
To  represent  vice  and  misery  as  the  necessary  accompaniments 
of  genius,  is  as  mischievous  as  it  is  false,  and  the  feeling  is  as 
unclassical  as  the  language  in  which  it  is  usually  expressed. 

MR.    TOOBAD. 

It  is  our  calamity.  The  devil  has  come  among  us,  and  has 
begun  by  taking  possession  of  all  the  cleverest  fellows.  Yet,  for- 
sooth, this  is  the  enlightened  age.  Marry,  how  ?  Did  our  an- 
cestors go  peeping  about  with  dark  lanterns,  and  do  we  walk  at 
our  ease  in  broad  sunshine  ?  Where  is  the  manifestation  of  our 
light  ?  By  what  symptoms  do  you  recognise  it  ?  What  are  its 
signs,  its  tokens,  its  symptoms,  its  symbols,  its  categories,  its  con- 

*  Childe  Harold,  canto  4.  cxxiv.  cxxvi. 


CHAP,  xi.]  NIGHTMARE  ABBEY.  149 

ditions  ?  What  is  it,  and  why  ?  How,  where,  when  is  it  to  be 
seen,  felt,  and  understood  ?  What  do  we  see  by  it  which  our 
ancestors  saw  not,  and  which  at  the  same  time  is  worth  seeing  ? 
We  see  a  hundred  men  hanged,  where  they  saw  one.  We  see 
five  hundred  transported,  where  they  saw  one.  We  see  five  thou- 
sand in  the  workhouse,  where  they  saw  one.  We  see  scores  of 
Bible  Societies,  where  they  saw  none.  We  see  paper,  where  they 
saw  gold.  We  see  men  in  stays,  where  they  saw  men  in  armour. 
We  see  painted  faces,  where  they  saw  healthy  ones.  We  see  chil- 
dren perishing  in  manufactories,  where  they  saw  them  flourishing 
in  the  fields.  We  see  prisons,  where  they  saw  castles.  We  see 
masters,  where  they  saw  representatives.  In  short,  they  saw  true 
men,  where  we  see  false  knaves.  They  saw  Milton,  and  we  see 
Mr.  Sackbut. 

MR.    FLOSKY. 

The  false  knave,  sir,  is  my  honest  friend ;  therefore,  I  beseech 
you,  let  him  be  countenanced.  God  forbid  but  a  knave  should 
have  some  countenance  at  his  friend's  request. 

MR.    TOOBAD. 

"  Good  men  and  true"  was  their  common  term,  like  the  Ka\os 
Kdyados  of  the  Athenians.  It  is  so  long  since  men  have  been  either 
good  or  true,  that  it  is  to  be  questioned  which  is  most  obsolete,  the 
fact  or  the  phraseology. 

MR.    CYPRESS. 

There  is  no  worth  nor  beauty  but  in  the  mind's  idea.  Love 
sows  the  wind  and  reaps  the  whirlwind.*  Confusion,  thrice  con- 
founded, is  the  portion  of  him  who  rests  even  for  an  instant  on  that 
most  brittle  of  reeds — the  affection  of  a  human  being.  The  sum 
of  our  social  destiny  is  to  inflict  or  to  endure. f 

MR.    HILARY. 

Rather  to  bear  and  forbear,  Mr.  Cypress — a  maxim  which  you 
perhaps  despise.  Ideal  beauty  is  not  the  mind's  creation :  it  is 
real  beauty,  refined  and  purified  in  the  mind's-alembic,  from  the 
alloy  which  always  more  or  less  accompanies  it  in  our  mixed  and 
imperfect  nature.  But  still  the  gold  exists  in  a  very  ample  de- 
gree.  To  expect  too  much  is  a  disease  in  the  expectant,  for 
which  human  nature  is  not   responsible  ;  and,  in  the  common 

*  Childe  Harold,  canto  4.  cxxiii.  t  Ibid,  canto  3.  Ixxi. 


150  NIGHTMARE  ABBEY.  [chap.  xi. 

name  of  humanity,  I  protest  against  these  false  and  mischievous 
payings.  To  rail  against  humanity  for  not  being  abstract  perfec- 
tion, and  against  human  love  for  not  realising  all  the  splendid 
visions  of  the  poets  of  chivalry,  is  to  rail  at  the  summer  for  not 
being  all  sunshine,  and  at  the  rose  for  not  being  always  in  bloom. 

MR.    CYPRESS. 

Human  love !  Love  is  not  an  inhabitant  of  the  earth.  We 
worship  him  as  the  Athenians  did  their  unknown  God :  but  bro- 
ken hearts  are  the  martyrs  of  his  faith,  and  the  eye  shall  never 
see  the  form  which  phantasy  paints,  and  which  passion  pursues 
through  paths  of  delusive  beauty,  among  flowers  whose  odours 
are  agonies,  and  trees  whose  gums  are  poison.* 

MR.    HILARY. 

1 1  You  talk  like  a  Rosicrusian,  who  will  love  nothing  but  a  sylph, 
|,lwho  does  not  believe  in  the  existence  of  a  sylph,  and  who  yet 
'  quarrels  with  the  whole  universe  for  not  containing  a  sylph. 

MR.    CYPRESS. 

The  mind  is  diseased  of  its  own  beauty,  and  fevers  into  false 
creation.  The  forms  which  the  sculptor's  soul  has  seized  exist 
only  in  himself. f 

MR.    FLOSKY. 

Permit  me  to  discept.  They  are  the  mediums  of  common 
forms  combined  and  arranged  into  a  common  standard.  The  ideal 
beauty  of  the  Helen  of  Zeuxis  was  the  combined  medium  of  the 
real  beauty  of  the  virgins  of  Crotona. 

MR.    HILARY. 

But  to  make  ideal  beauty  the  shadow  in  the  water,  and,  like 
the  dog  in  the  fable,  to  throw  away  the  substance  in  catching  at 
the  shadow,  is  scarcely  the  characteristic  of  wisdom,  whatever  it 
may  be  of  genius.  To  reconcile  man  as  he  is  to  the  world  as  it 
is,  to  preserve  and  improve  all  that  is  good,  and  destroy  or  alle- 
viate all  that  is. evil,  in  physical  and  moral  nature — have  been 
the  hope  and  aim  of  the  greatest  teachers  and  ornaments  of  our 
species.  I  will  say,  too,  that  the  highest  wisdom  and  the  highest 
genius  have  been  invariably  accompanied  with  cheerfulness. 
We  have  sufficient  proofs  on  record  that  Shakspeare  and  Socrates 

*  Childe  Harold,  canto  4.  cxxi.  cxxxvi.  t  Ibid,  canto  4.  cxxii. 


CHAP.  XI.]  NIGHTMARE  ABBEY.  151 

were  the  most  festive  of  companions.  But  now  the  little  wis- 
dom and  genius  we  have  seem  to  be  entering  into  a  conspiracy 
against  cheerfulness. 

BIR.    TOOBAD. 

How  can  we  be  cheerful  with  the  devil  among  us  ? 

THE    HONOURABLE    MR.    LISTLESS. 

How  can  we  be  cheerful  when  our  nerves  are  shattered  ? 

MR.    FLOSKY. 

How  can  we  be  cheerful  when  we  are  surrounded  by  a  reading 
public,  that  is  growing  too  wise  for  its  betters  ? 

SCYTHROP. 

How  can  we  be  cheerful  when  our  great  general  designs  are 
crossed  every  moment  by  our  little  particular  passions  1 

MR.    CYPRESS. 

How  can  we  be  cheerful  in  the  midst  of  disapointment  and 
despair  ? 

MR.    GLOWRY. 

Let  us  all  be  unhappy  together. 

MR.    HILARY. 

Let  us  sing  a  catch. 

MR.    GLOWRY. 

No :  a  nice  tragical  ballad.    The  Norfolk  Tragedy  to  the  tune 
of  the  Hundredth  Psalm. 

MR.    HILARY. 

I  say  a  catch. 

MR.    GLOWRY. 

I  say  no.     A  song  from  Mr.  Cypress. 

ALL. 

A  song  from  Mr.  Cypress. 

MR.    CYPRESS    sung 

There  is  a  fever  of  the  spirit, 

The  brand  of  Cain's  unresting  doom, 
Wliich  in  the  lone  dark  souls  that  bear  it 

Glows  like  the  lamp  in  TuUia's  tomb  : 
Unlike  that  lamp,  its  subtle  fire 

Bums,  blasts,  consumes  its  cell,  the  heart, 


152  NIGHTMARE  ABBEY.  [chap,  vni 

Till,  one  by  one.  hope,  joy,  desire, 
Like  dreams  of  shadowy  smoke  depart. 

When  hope,  love,  life  itself,  are  only 

Dust — spectral  memories — dead  and  cold — 
The  unfed  fire  burns  bright  and  lonely, 

Like  that  undying  lamp  of  old  : 
And  by  that  drear  illumination, 

Till  time  its  clay-built  home  has  rent, 
Thought  broods  on  feeling's  desolation — 

The  soul  is  its  own  monument. 

MR.    GLOWRY. 

Admirable.     Let  us  all  be  unhappy  together. 

MR.    HILARY. 

Now,  I  say  again,  a  catch. 

THE    REVEREND    MR.    LARYNX. 

I  am  for  you. 

MR.    niLA.RY. 

"  Seamen  three." 

THE    REVEREND    MR.    LARYNX. 

Agreed.     I'll  be  Harry  Gill,  with  the  voice  of  three.     Begin. 

MR.    HILARY    AND    THE    REVEREND    MR.    LARYNX. 

Seamen  three  !    What  men  be  ye  ? 

Gotham's  three  wise  men  we  be. 

Whither  in  yonr  bowl  so  free  ? 

To  rake  the  moon  from  out  the  sea. 

The  bowl  goes  trim.     The  moon  doth  shine. 

And  our  ballast  is  old  wine  ; 

And  your  ballast  is  old  wine. 

Who  art  thou,  so  fast  adrift? 
I  am  he  they  call  Old  Care. 
Here  on  board  we  will  thee  lift. 
No :  I  may  not  enter  there. 
Wherefore  so?     'T  is  Jove's  decree, 
In  a  bowl  Care  may  not  be ; 
In  a  bowl  Care  may  not  be. 

Fear  ye  not  the  waves  that  roU  ? 
No :  in  charmed  bowl  we  swim. 


CHAP.  XI.]  NIGHTMARE  ABBEY.  153 

What  the  charm  that  floats  the  bowl  ? 

Water  may  not  pass  the  brim. 

The  bowl  goes  trim.     The  moon  doth  shine. 

And  our  ballast  is  old  tvine  ; 

And  your  ballast  is  old  wine. 

This  catch  was  so  well  executed  by  the  spirit  and  science  of 
Mr.  Hilary,  and  the  deep  tri-une  voice  of  the  reverend  gentleman, 
that  the  whole  party,  in  spite  of  themselves,  caught  the  contagion, 
and  joined  in  chorus  at  the  conclusion,  each  raising  a  bumper  to 
his  lips  : 

The  bowl  goes  trim :  the  moon  doth  shine : 
And  oiu"  ballast  is  old  wine. 

Mr.  Cypress,  having  his  ballast  on  board,  stepped,  the  same 
evening,  into  his  bowl,  or  travelling  chariot,  and  departed  to  rake 
seas  and  rivers,  lakes  and  canals,  for  the  moon  of  ideal  beauty. 


154  NIGHTMARE  ABBEY.  [chap,  xii 


CHAPTER   XII. 

xi  was  the  custom  of  the  Honourable  Mr.  Listless,  on  adjourn- 
ing from  the  bottle  to  the  ladies,  to  retire  for  a  few  moments  to 
make  a  second  toilette,  that  he  might  present  himself  in  becoming 
taste.  Fatout,  attending  as  usual,  appeared  with  a  countenance 
of  great  dismay,  and  informed  his  master  that  he  had  just  ascer- 
tained that  the  abbey  was  haunted.  Mrs.  Hilary's  gentlewoman, 
for  whom  Fatout  had  lately  conceived  a  tendresse,  had  been,  as 
she  expessed  it,  "  fritted  out  of  her  seventeen  senses  "  the  pre- 
ceding night,  as  she  was  retiring  to  her  bedchamber,  by  a  ghastly 
figure  which  she  had  met  stalking  along  one  of  the  galleries, 
wrapped  in  a  white  shroud,  with  a  bloody  turban  on  its  head. 
She  had  fainted  away  with  fear ;  and,  when  she  recovered,  she 
found  herself  in  the  dark,  and  the  figure  was  gone.  '•'  Sucre — 
coclion — 'bleuV  exclaimed  Fatout,  giving  very  deliberate  em- 
phasis to  every  portion  of  his  terrible  oath — "  I  vould  not  meet 
de  reve7iant,  de  ghost — noii — not  for  all  de  lowl-de-poncli  in  de 
vorld." 

"  Fatout,"  said  the  Honourable  Mr.  Listless,  "  did  I  ever  see 
a  ghost  ?" 

"  Jamais,  monsieur,  never." 

"  Then  I  hope  I  never  shall,  for,  in  the  present  shattered  state 
of  my  nerves,  I  am  afraid  it  would  be  too  much  for  me.  There 
— loosen  the  lace  of  my  stays  a  little,  for  really  this  plebeian  prac- 
tice of  eating — Not  too  loose— consider  my  shape.  That  will  do. 
And  I  desire  that  you  bring  me  no  more  stories  of  ghosts  ,•  for, 
though  I  do  not  believe  in  such  things,  yet,  when  one  is  awake  in 
the  night,  one  is  apt,  if  one  thinks  of  them,  to  have  fancies  that 
give  one  a  kind  of  a  chill,  particularly  if  one  opens  one's  eyes 
suddenly  on  one's  dressing  gown,  hanging  in  the  moonlight,  be- 
tween the  bed  and  the  window." 

The  Honourable  Mr.  Listless,  though  he  had  prohibited  Fatout 
from  bringing  him  any  more  stories  of  ghosts,  could  not  help 


CHAP,  xn.]  NIGHTMARE  ABBEY.  155 

thinking  of  that  which  Fatout  had  already  brought ;  and,  as  it 
was  uppermost  in  his  mind,  when  he  descended  to  the  tea  and 
coffee  cups,  and  the  rest  of  the  company  in  the  library,  he  almost 
involuntarily  asked  Mr.  Flosky,  whom  he  looked  up  to  as  a  most 
oraculous  personage,  whether  any  story  of  any  ghost  that  had 
ever  appeared  to  any  one  was  entitled  to  any  degree  of  belief  ? 

MR.    FLOSKY. 

By  far  the  greater  number,  to  a  very  great  degree. 

THE    HONOURABLE    MR.    LISTLESS. 

Really,  that  is  very  alarming  ! 

MR.    FLOSKY. 

Sunt  gemincB  somni  portce.  There  are  two  gates  through  which 
ghosts  find  their  way  to  the  upper  air :  fraud  and  self-delusion. 
In  the  latter  case,  a  ghost  is  a  deceptio  visus,  an  ocular  spectrum, 
an  idea  with  the  force  of  a  sensation.  I  have  seen  many  ghosts 
myself.  I  dare  say  there  are  few  in  this  company  who  have  not 
seen  a  ghost. 

THE    HONOURABLE    MR.    LISTLESS. 

I  am  happy  to  say,  I  never  have,  for  one. 

THE    REVEREND    MR.    LARYNX. 

We  have  such  high  authority  for  ghosts,  that  it  is  rank  scepti- 
cism to  disbelieve  them.  Job  saw  a  ghost,  which  came  for  the 
express  purpose  of  asking  a  question,  and  did  not  wait  for  an 
answer. 

THE    HONOURABLE    MR.    LISTLESS. 

Because  Job  was  too  frightened  to  give  one. 

THE    REVEREND   MR.    LARYNX. 

Spectres  appeared  to  the  Egyptians  during  the  darkness  with'^ '' 
which  Moses  covered  Egypt.     The  witch  of  Endor  raised  the 
ghost  of  Samuel.     Moses  and  Elias  appeared  on  Mount  Tabor. 
An  evil  spirit  was  sent  into  the  army  of  Sennacherib,  and  exter- 
minated it  in  a  single  night. 

MR.    TOOBAD. 

Saying,  The  devil  is  come  among  you,  having  great  wrath. 

MR.    FLOSKY. 

Saint  Macarius  interrogated  a  skull,  which  was  found  in  the 


156  NIGHTMARE  ABBEY.  [chap,  xil 

desert,  and  made  it  relate,  in  presence  of  several  witnesses,  what 
was  going  forward  in  hell.  Saint  Martin  of  Tours,  being  jeal- 
ous of  a  pretended  martyr,  who  was  the  rival  saint  of  his  neigh- 
bourhood,  called  up  his  ghost,  and  made  him  confess  that  he  was 
damned.  Saint  Germain,  being  on  his  travels,  turned  out  of  an 
inn  a  large  party  of  ghosts,  who  had  every  night  taken  posses- 
sion of  the  table  dliote,  and  consumed  a  copious  supper. 

MR.    HILARY. 

Jolly  ghosts,  and  no  doubt  all  friars.  A  similar  party  took 
possession  of  the  cellar  of  M.  Swebach,  the  painter,  in  Paris, 
drank  his  wine,  and  threw  the  empty  bottles  at  his  head. 

THE    REVEREND    MR.    LARYNX. 

An  atrocious  act. 

MR.    FLOSKY. 

Pausanias  relates,  that  the  neighing  of  horses  and  the  tumult  of 
combatants  were  heard  every  night  on  the  field  of  Marathon : 
that  those  who  went  purposely  to  hear  these  sounds  suffered  se- 
verely for  their  curiosity ;  but  those  who  heard  them  by  accident 
passed  with  impunity.  t^l 

THE    REVEREND   MR.    LARYNX.  -      ^ 

I  once  saw  a  ghost  myself,  in  my  study,  which  is  the  last  place 
where  any  one  but  a  ghost  would  look  for  me.  I  had  not  been 
into  it  for  three  months,  and  was  going  to  consult  Tillotson,  when, 
on  opening  the  door,  I  saw  a  venerable  figure  in  a  flannel  dress- 
ing gown,  sitting  in  my  arm-chair,  and  reading  my  Jeremy  Tay- 
lor. It  vanished  in  a  moment,  and  so  did  I ;  and  what  it  was  or 
what  it  wanted  I  have  never  been  able  to  ascertain. 

MR.    FLOSKY. 

It  was  an  idea  with  the  force  of  a  sensation.  It  is  seldom  that 
ghosts  appeal  to  two  senses  at  once ;  but,  when  I  was  in  Devon- 
shire, the  following  story  was  well  attested  to  me.  A  young  wo- 
man, whose  lover  was  at  sea,  returning  one  evening  over  some 
solitary  fields,  saw  her  lover  sitting  on  a  stile  over  which  she  was 
to  pass.  Her  first  emotions  were  surprise  and  joy,  but  there  was 
a  paleness  and  seriousness  in  his  face  that  made  them  give  place 
to  alarm.  She  advanced  towards  him,  and  he  said  to  her,  in  a 
solemn  voice,  "  The  eye  that  hath  seen  me  shall  see  me  no  more. 


CHAP.  XII.]  NIGHTMARE  ABBEY.  157 

Thine  eye  is  upon  me,  but  I  am  not."  And  with  these  words  he 
vanished ;  and  on  that  very  day  and  hour,  as  it  afterwards  ap- 
peared, he  had  perished  by  shipwreck. 

The  whole  party  now  drew  round  in  a  circle,  and  each  re- 
lated some  ghostly  anecdote,  heedless  of  the  flight  of  time,  till, 
in  a  pause  of  the  conversation,  they  heard  the  hollow  tongue  of 
midnight  sounding  twelve. 

MR.    HILARY. 

All  these  anecdotes  admit  of  solution  on  psychological  prin- 
ciples. It  is  more  easy  for  a  soldier,  a  philosopher,  or  even  a 
saint,  to  be  frightened  at  his  own  shadow,  than  for  a  dead  man  to 
come  out  of  his  grave.  Medical  writers  cite  a  thousand  singular 
examples  of  the  force  of  imagination.  Persons  of  feeble,  ner- 
vous, melancholy  temperament,  exhausted  by  fever,  by  labour,  or 
by  spare  diet,  will  readily  conjure  up,  in  the  magic  ring  of  their 
own  phantasy,  spectres,  gorgons,  chimaeras,  and  all  the  objects  of 
their  hatred  and  their  love.  We  are  most  of  us  like  Don  Quix- 
ote, to  whom  a  windmill  was  a  giant,  and  Dulcinea  a  magnifi- 
cent princess  :  all  more  or  less  the  dupes  of  our  own  imagination, 
though  we  do  not  all  go  so  far  as  to  see  ghosts,  or  to  fancy  our- 
selves pipkins  and  teapots. 

MR.    FLOSKY. 

I  can  safely  say  I  have  seen  too  many  ghosts  myself  to  believe 
in  their  external  existence.  I  have  seen  all  kinds  of  ghosts : 
black  spirits  and  white,  red  spirits  and  grey.  Some  in  the  shapes 
of  venerable  old  men,  who  have  met  me  in  my  rambles  at  noon ; 
some  of  beautiful  young  women,  who  have  peeped  through  my 
curtains  at  midnight. 

THE   HONOURABLE    MR.    LISTLESS. 

And  have  proved,  I  doubt  not,  "  palpable  to  feeling  as  to 
sight." 

MR.    FLOSKY. 

By  no  means,  sir.  You  reflect  upon  my  purity.  Myself  and 
my  friends,  particularly  my  friend  Mr.  Sackbut,  are  famous  for 
our  purity.  No.  sir,  genume  untangible  ghosts.  I  live  in  a 
world  of  ghosts.     I  see  a  ghost  at  this  moment. 

Mr.  Flosky  fixed  his  eyes  on  a  door  at  the  farther  end  of  the 


158  NIGHTMARE  ABBEY.  [chap.  xn. 

library.  The  company  looked  in  the  same  direction.  The  door 
silently  opened,  and  a  ghastly  figure,  shrouded  in  white  drapery, 
with  the  semblance  of  a  bloody  turban  on  its  head,  entered  and 
stalked  slowly  up  the  apartment.  Mr.  Flosky,  familiar  as  he  "vas 
with  ghosts,  was  not  prepared  for  this  apparition,  and  made  the 
best  of  his  way  out  at  the  opposite  door.  Mrs.  Hilary  and  Ma- 
rionetta  followed,  screaming.  The  Honourable  Mr.  Listless,  by 
two  turns  of  his  body,  rolled  first  off  the  sofa  and  then  under  it. 
The  Reverend  Mr.  Larynx  leaped  up  and  fled  with  so  much  pre- 
cipitation, that  he  overturned  the  table  on  the  foot  of  Mr.  Glowry. 
Mr.  Glowry  roared  with  pain  in  the  ear  of  Mr.  Toobad.  Mr. 
Toobad's  alarm  so  bewildered  his  senses,  that,  missing  the  door, 
he  threw  up  one  of  the  windows,  jumped  out  in  his  panic,  and 
plunged  over  head  and  ears  in  the  moat.  Mr.  Asterias  and  his 
son,  who  were  on  the  watch  for  their  mermaid,  were  attracted  by 
the  splashing,  threw  a  net  over  him,  and  dragged  him  to  land. 

Scythrop  and  Mr.  Hilary  meanwhile  had  hastened  to  his  as- 
sistance, and,  on  arriving  at  the  edge  of  the  moat,  followed  by 
several  servants  with  ropes  and  torches,  found  Mr.  Asterias  and 
Aquarius  busy  in  endeavouring  to  extricate  Mr.  Toobad  from  the 
net,  who  was  entangled  in  the  meshes,  and  floundering  with  rage. 
Scythrop  was  lost  in  amazement ;  but  Mr.  Hilary  saw,  at  one 
view,  all  the  circumstances  of  the  adventure,  and  burst  into  an 
immoderate  fit  of  laughter ;  on  recovering  from  which  he  said  to 
Mr.  Asterias,  "  You  have  caught  an  odd  fish,  indeed."  Mr.  Too- 
bad  was  highly  exasperated  at  this  unseasonable  pleasantry ;  but 
Mr.  Hilary  softened  his  anger  by  producing  a  knife,  and  cutting 
the  Gordian  knot  of  his  reticular  envelopement.  "  You  see," 
said  Mr.  Toobad,  "  you  see,  gentlemen,  in  my  unfortunate  per- 
son proof  upon  proof  of  the  present  dominion  of  the  devil  in  the 
afliairs  of  this  world ;  and  I  have  no  doubt  but  that  the  appari- 
tion of  this  night  was  ApoUyon  himself  in  disguise,  sent  fcr  the 
express  purpose  of  terrifying  me  into  this  complication  of  misad- 
ventures. The  devil  is  come  among  you,  having  great  wrath, 
because  he  knoweth  that  he  hath  but  a  short  time." 


CHAP,  xii.]  NIGHTMARE  ABBEY.  159 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

Mr.  Glowry  was  much  surprised,  on  occasionally  visiting  Scy- 
throp's  tower,  to  find  the  door  always  locked,  and  to  be  kept 
sometimes  waiting  many  minutes  for  admission  :  during  which  he 
invariably  heard  a  heavy  rolling  sound  like  that  of  a  ponderous 
mangle,  or  of  a  waggon  on  a  weighing-bridge,  or  of  theatrical 
thunder. 

He  took  little  notice  of  this  for  some  time  ;  at  length  his  cu- 
riosity was  excited,  and,  one  day,  instead  of  knocking  at  the  door, 
as  usual,  the  instant  he  reached  it,  he  applied  his  ear  to  the  key- 
hole, and  like  Bottom,  in  the  Midsummer  Night's  Dream,  "  spied 
a  voice,"  which  he  guessed  to  be  of  the  feminine  gender,  and 
knew  to  be  not  Scythrop's,  whose  deeper  tones  he  distinguished  at 
intervals.  Having  attempted  in  vain  to  catch  a  syllable  of  the 
discourse,  he  knocked  violently  at  the  door,  and  roared  for  im- 
mediate admission.  The  voices  ceased,  the  accustomed  rolling 
sound  was  heard,  the  door  opened,  and  Scythrop  was  discovered 
alone.  Mr.  Glowry  looked  round  to  every  corner  of  the  apart- 
ment, and  then  said,  "  Where  is  the  lady  ?" 

"  The  lady,  sir  ?"  said  Scythrop. 

"  Yes,  sir,  the  lady." 

"  Sir,  I  do  not  understand  you." 

«  You  don't,  sir  ?" 

"  No,  indeed,  sir.     There  is  no  lady  here." 

"  But,  sir,  this  is  not  the  only  apartment  in  the  tower,  and  I 
make  no  doubt  there  is  a  lady  up  stairs." 

"You  are  welcome  to  search,  sir." 

"  Yes,  and  while  I  am  searching,  she  will  slip  out  from  some 
lurking  place,  and  make  her  escape." 

"  You  may  lock  this  door,  sir,  and  take  the  key  with  you." 

"  But  there  is  the  terrace  door :  she  has  escaped  by  the  ter- 


160  NIGHTMARE  ABBEY.  [chap,  xin 

"  The  terrace,  sir,  has  no  other  outlet,  and   the  walls  are  too 
high  for  a  lady  to  jump  down." 
"  Well,  sir,  give  me  the  key." 

Mr.  Glowry  took  the  key,  searched  every  nook  of  the  tower, 
and  returned. 

"  You  are  a  fox,  Scythrop ;  you  are  an  exceedingly  cunning 
fox,  with  that  demure  visage  of  yours.     What  was  that  lumber- 
ing sound  I  heard  before  you  opened  the  door  ?" 
"  Sound,  sir  ?" 
'•  Yes,  sir,  sound." 

"  My  dear  sir,  I  am  not  aware  of  any  sound,  except  my  great 
table,  which  I  moved  on  rising  to  let  you  in." 

"  The  table ! — let  me  see  that.  No,  sir ;  not  a  tenth  part 
heavy  enough,  not  a  tenth  part." 

"  But,  sir,  you  do  not  consider  the  laws  of  acoustics  :  a  whis- 
per becomes  a  peal  of  thunder  in  the  focus  of  reverberation.  Al- 
low me  to  explain  this  :  sounds  striking  on  concave  surfaces  are 
reflected  from  them,  and,  after  reflection,  converge  to  points 
which  are  the  foci  of  these  surfaces.  It  follows,  therefore,  that 
the  ear  may  be  so  placed  in  one,  as  that  it  shall  hear  a  sound 
better  than  when  situated  nearer  to  the  point  of  the  first  impulse  • 
again,  in  the  case  of  two  concave  surfaces  placed  opposite  to  each 

other " 

"  Nonsense,  sir.  Don't  tell  me  of  foci.  Pray,  sir,  will  con- 
cave surfaces  produce  two  voices  when  nobody  speaks  ?  I  heard 
two  voices,  and  one  was  feminine  ;  feminine,  sir  :  what  say  you 
to  that  ?" 

"  Oh,  sir,  I  perceive  your  mistake  :  I  am  writing  a  tragedy, 
and  was  acting  over  a  scene  to  myself.  To  convince  you,  I  will 
give  you  a  specimen  ;  but  you  must  first  understand  the  plot.  It 
is  a  tragedy  on  the  German  model.  The  Great  Mogul  is  in  ex- 
ile, and  has  taken  lodgings  at  Kensington,  with  his  only  daughter, 
the  Princess  Rantrorina,  who  takes  in  needlework,  and  keeps  a 
day  school.  The  princess  is  discovered  hemming  a  set  of  shirts 
for  the  parson  of  the  parish  :  they  are  to  be  marked  with  a  large 
R.  Enter  to  her  the  Great  Mogul.  A  pause ^  during  which  they 
look  at  each  other  expressively.  The  princess  changes  colour  sev- 
eral times.  The  Mogul  takes  snuff  in  great  agitation.  Several 
grains  are  heard  to  fall  on  the  stage.     His  heart  is  seen  to  heat 


CHAP.  XIII.]  NIGHTMARE  ABBEY.  161 

through  his  upper  benjamin. — The  Mogul  (with  a  mournful  look 
at  his  left  shoe).  "  My  shoe-string  is  broken." — The  Princess 
{after  an  interval  of  melancholy  refection.)  "  I  know  it." — The 
Mogul.  "  My  second  shoe-string  !  The  first  broke  when  I  lost 
my  empire  :  the  second  has  broken  to-day.  When  will  my  poor 
heart  break  ?" — The  Princess.  "  Shoe-strings,  hearts,  and  em- 
pires !     Mysterious  sympathy  !" 

"  Nonsense,  sir,"  interrupted  Mr.  Glowry.  "  That  is  not  at 
all  like  the  voice  I  heard." 

"  But,  sir,"  said  Scythrop,  "  a  key-hole  may  be  so  constructed 
as  to  act  like  an  acoustic  tube,  and  an  acoustic  tube,  sir,  will 
modify  sound  in  a  very  remarkable  manner.  Consider  the  con- 
struction of  the  ear,  and  the  nature  and  causes  of  sound.  The 
external  part  of  the  ear  is  a  cartilaginous  funnel." 

"It  wo'n't  do,  Scythrop.  There  is  a  girl  concealed  in  this 
tower,  and  find  her  I  will.  There  are  such  things  as  sliding 
panels  and  secret  closets." — He  sounded  round  the  room  with  his 
cane,  but  detected  no  hollowness. — "  I  have  heard,  sir,"  he  con- 
tinued, "that  during  my  absence,  two  years  ago,  you  had  a 
dumb  carpenter  closeted  with  you  day  after  day.  I  did  not 
dream  that  you  were  laying  contrivances  for  carrying  on  secret 
intrigues.  Young  men  will  have  their  way  :  I  had  my  way 
when  I  was  a  young  man  :  but,  sir,  when  your  cousin  Marion- 
etta " 

Scythrop  now  saw  that  the  affair  was  growing  serious.  To 
have  clapped  his  hand  upon  his  father's  mouth,  to  have  entreated 
him  to  be  silent,  would,  in  the  first  place,  not  have  made  him  so  ; 
and,  in  the  second,  would  have  shown  a  dread  of  being  overheard 
by  somebody.  His  only  resource,  therefore,  was  to  try  to  drown 
Mr.  Glowry's  voice ;  and  having  no  other  subject,  he  continued 
his  description  of  the  ear,  raising  his  voice  continually  as  Mr. 
Glowry  raised  his. 

"  When  your  cousin  Marionetta,"  said  Mr.  Glowry,  "  whom 
you  profess  to  love — whom  you  profess  to  love,  sir " 

"  The  internal  canal  of  the  ear,"  said  Scythrop,  "  is  partly 
bony  and  partly  cartilaginous.     This  internal  canal  is " 

"  Is  actually  in  the  house,  sir  ;  and,  when  you  are  so  shortly 
to  be — as  I  expect " 

"  Closed  at  the  further  end  by  the  membrana  tympani — " 

12 


162  NIGHTMARE  ABBEY.  [chap,  xm 

"  Joined  together  in  holy  matrimony — " 

"  Under  which  is  carried  a  branch  of  the  fifth  pair  of  nerves — " 

"  I  say,  sir,  when  you  are  so  shortly  to  be  married  to  your 
cousin  Marionetta — " 

"  The  cavitas  tympani — " 

A  loud  noise  was  heard  behind  the  book-case,  which,  to  the  as- 
tonishment of  Mr.  Glowry,  opened  in  the  middle,  and  the  massy 
compartments,  with  all  their  weight  of  books,  receding  from  each 
other  in  the  manner  of  a  theatrical  scene,  with  a  heavy  rolling 
sound  (which  Mr.  Glowry  immediately  recognised  to  be  the  same 
which  had  excited  his  curiosity),  disclosed  an  interior  apartment, 
in  the  entrance  of  which  stood  the  beautiful  Stella,  who,  stepping 
forward,  exclaimed,  "  Married !  Is  he  going  to  be  married  ? 
The  profligate !" 

"  Really,  madam,"  said  Mr.  Glowry,  "  1  do  not  know  what  he 
is  going  to  do,  or  what  I  am  going  to  do,  or  what  any  one  is  go- 
ing to  do;  for  all  this  is  incomprehensible." 

"  I  can  explain  it  all,"  said  Scythrop,  "  in  a  most  satisfactory 
manner,  if  you  will  but  have  the  goodness  to  leave  us  alone." 

''  Pray,  sir,  to  which  act  of  the  tragedy  of  the'  Great  Mogul 
does  this  incident  belong  ?" 

"  I  entreat  you,  my  dear  sir,  leave  us  alone." 

Stella  threw  herself  into  a  chair,  and  burst  into  a  tempest  of 
tears.  Scythrop  sat  down  by  her,  and  took  her  hand.  She 
snatched  her  hand  away,  and  turned  her  back  upon  him.  He 
rose,  sat  down  on  the  other  side,  and  took  her  other  hand.  She 
snatched  it  away,  and  turned  from  him  again.  Scythrop  con- 
tinued entreating  Mr.  Glowry  to  leave  them  alone ;  but  the  old 
gentleman  was  obstinate,  and  would  not  go. 

"I  suppose,  after  all,"  said  Mr.  Glowry  maliciously,  "it  is 
only  a  phenomenon  in  acoustics,  and  this  young  lady  is  a  reflec- 
tion of  sound  from  concave  surfaces." 

Some  one  tapped  at  the  door :  Mr.  Glowry  opened  it,  and  Mr. 
Hilary  entered.  He  had  been  seeking  Mr.  Glowry,  and  had 
traced  him  to  Scythrop's  tower.  He  stood  a  few  moments  in 
silent  surprise,  and  then  addressed  himself  to  Mr.  Glowry  for  an 
explanation. 

"  The  explanation,"  said  Mr.  Glowry,  "  is  very  satisfactory. 


CHAP.  XIII.]  NIGHTMARE  ABBEY.  163 

The  Great  Mogul  has  taken  lodgings  at  Kensington,  and  the  ex- 
ternal part  of  the  ear  is  a  cartilaginous  funnel." 

"  Mr.  Glowry,  that  is  no  explanation." 

"  Mr.  Hilary,  it  is  all  I  know  about  the  matter." 

"  Si-",  this  pleasantry  is  very  unseasonable.  I  perceive  that  my 
niece  is  sported  with  in  a  most  unjustifiable  manner,  and  I  shall 
see  if  she  will  be  more  successful  in  obtaining  an  intelligible  an- 
swer."    And  he  departed  in  search  of  Marionetta. 

Scythrop  was  now  in  a  hopeful  predicament.  Mr.  Hilary 
made  a  hue  and  cry  in  the  abbey,  and  summoned  his  wife  and 
Marionetta  to  Scythrop's  apartment.  The  ladies,  not  knowing 
what  was  the  matter,  hastened  in  great  consternation.  Mr.  Too- 
bad  saw  them  sweeping  along  the  corridor,  and  judging  from 
their  manner  that  the  devil  had  manifested  his  wrath  in  some 
new  shape,  followed  from  pure  curiosity. 

Scythrop  meanwhile  vainly  endeavoured  to  get  rid  of  Mr. 
Glowry  and  to  pacify  Stella.  The  latter  attempted  to  escape 
from  the  tower,  declaring  she  would  leave  the  abbey  immediately, 
and  he  should  never  see  her  or  hear  of  her  more.  Scythrop  held 
her  hand  and  detained  her  by  force,  till  Mr.  Hilary  reappeared 
with  Mrs.  Hilary  and  Marionetta.  Marionetta,  seeing  Scythrop 
grasping  the  hand  of  a  strange  beauty,  fainted  away  in  the  arms 
of  her  aunt.  Scythrop  flew  to  her  assistance  ;  and  Stella  with 
redoubled  anger  sprang  towards  the  door,  but  was  intercepted  in 
her  intended  flight  by  being  caught  in  the  arms  of  Mr.  Toobad, 
who  exclaimed — "  Celinda  !" 

"  Papa  !"  said  the  young  lady  disconsolately. 

"The  devil  is  come  among  you,"  said  Mr.  Toobad,  "how 
came  my  daughter  here  ?" 

"  Your  daughter  !"  exclaimed  Mr.  Glowry. 

"Your  daughter!"  exclaimed  Scythrop,  and  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Hilary. 

"Yes,"  said  Mr.  Toobad,  "my  daughter  Celinda." 

Marionetta  opened  her  eyes  and  fixed  them  on  Celinda  ;  Ce- 
linda in  return  fixed  hers  on  Marionetta.  They  were  at  remote 
points  of  the  apartment.  Scythrop  was  equidistant  from  both  of 
them,  central  and  motionless,  like  Mahomet's  coflin. 

"  Mr.  Glowry,"  said  Mr.  Tcobad,  "  can  you  tell  by  what 
means  my  daughter  came  here  V 


164  NIGHTMARE  ABBEY.  [chap.  xiu. 

"  I  know  no  more,"  said  Mr.  Glowry,  "  than  the  Great  Mogul." 

"  Mr.  Scythrop,"  said  Mr.  Toobad,  "  how  came  my  daughter 
here  ?" 

"  I  did  not  know,  sir,  that  the  lady  was  your  daughter." 

"  But  how  came  she  here  ?" 

"  By  spontaneous  locomotion,"  said  Scythrop,  sullenly. 

"  Cclinda,"  said  Mr.  Toobad,  "  what  does  all  this  mean  ?" 

"I  really  do  not  know,  sir." 

"  This  is  most  unaccountable.  When  I  told  you  in" London 
that  I  had  chosen  a  husband  for  you,  you  thought  proper  to  run 
away  from  him  ;  and  now,  to  all  appearance,  you  have  run  away 
to  him." 

"  How,  sir  !  was  that  your  choice  ?" 

"  Precisely ;  and  if  he  is  yours  too  we  shall  be  both  of  a  mind, 
for  the  first  time  in  our  lives." 

"  He  is  not  my  choice,  sir.  This  lady  has  a  prior  claim  :  I 
renounce  him." 

"  And  I  renounce  him,"  said  Marionetta. 

Scythrop  knew  not  what  to  do.  He  could  not  attempt  to  con- 
ciliate the  one  without  irreparably  offending  the  other ;  and  he 
was  so  fond  of  both,  that  the  idea  of  depriving  himself  for  ever  of 
the  society  of  either  was  intolerable  to  him  :  he  therefore  retreated 
into  his  strong  hold,  mystery  ;  maintained  an  impenetrable  si- 
lence ;  and  contented  himself  with  stealing  occasionally  a  depre- 
cating glance  at  each  of  the  objects  of  his  idolatry.  Mr.  Toobad 
and  Mr.  Hilary,  in  the  mean  time,  were  each  insisting  on  an  ex- 
planation from  Mr.  Glowry,  who  they  thought  had  been  playing 
a  double  game  on  this  occasion.  Mr.  Glowry  was  vainly  en- 
deavouring to  persuade  them  of  his  innocence  in  the  whole  trans- 
action. Mrs.  Hilary  was  endeavouring  to  mediate  between  her 
husband  and  brother.  The  Honourable  Mr.  Listless,  the  Rever- 
end Mr.  Larynx,  Mr.  Flosky,  Mr.  Asterias,  and  Aquarius,  were 
attracted  by  the  tumult  to  the  scene  of  action,  and  were  appealed 
to  severally  and  conjointly  by  the  respective  disputants.  Multi- 
tudinous questions,  and  answers  en  masse,  composed  a  charivari, 
to  which  the  genius  of  Rossini  alone  could  have  given  a  suitable 
accompaniment,  and  which  was  only  terminated  by  Mrs.  Hilary 
and  Mr.  Toobad  retreating  with  the  captive  damsels.  The  whole 
party  followed,  with  the  exception  of  Scythrop,  who  threw  him- 


CHAP.  XIII.]  NIGHTMARE  ABBEY.  165 

self  into  his  arm-chair,  crossed  his  left  foot  over  his  right  knee, 
placed  the  hollow  of  his  left  hand  on  the  interior  ancle  of  his  left 
leg,  rested  his  right  elbow  on  the  elbow  of  the  chair,  placed  the 
ball  of  his  right  thumb  against  his  right  temple,  curved  the  fore- 
finger along  the  upper  part  of  his  forehead,  rested  the  point  of  the 
middle  finger  on  the  bridge  of  his  nose,  and  the  points  of  the  two 
others  on  the  lower  part  of  the  palm,  fixed  his  eyes  intently  on  the 
veins  in  the  back  of  his  left  hand,  and  sat  in  this  position  like  the 
immoveable  Theseus,  who,  as  is  well  known  to  many  who  have 
not  been  at  college,  and  to  some  few  who  have,  sedet,  (Eternumque 
sedebit.*  We  hope  the  admirers  of  the  minutice  in  poetry  and 
romance  will  appreciate  this  accurate  description  of  a  pensive  at- 
titude. 

*  Sits,  and  will  sit  for  ever. 


166  NIGHTMARE  ABBEY.  [chap.  xiv. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

ScYTHROP  was  still  in  this  position  when  Raven  entered  to  an- 
nounce that  dinner  was  on  table. 

"  I  cannot  come,"  said  Scythrop. 

Raven  sighed.  "  Something  is  the  matter,"  said  Raven :  "  but 
man  is  born  to  trouble." 

"  Leave  me,"  said  Scythrop  :  "  go,  and  croak  elsewhere." 

"  Thus  it  is,"  said  Raven.  "  Five-and-tw-enty  years  have  I 
lived  in  Nightmare  Abbey,  and  now  all  the  reward  of  my  affec- 
tion is — Go,  and  croak  elsewhere.  I  have  danced  you  on  my 
knee,  and  fed  you  with  marrow." 

"  Good  Raven,"  said  Scythrop,  "  I  entreat  you  to  leave  me." 

"  Shall  I  bring  your  dinner  here  ?"  said  Raven.  "  A  boiled 
fowl  and  a  glass  of  Madeira  are  prescribed  by  the  faculty  in  cases 
of  low  spirits.  But  you  had  better  join  the  party  :  it  is  very  much 
reduced  already." 

"  Reduced  !  how  ?" 

"  The  Honourable  Mr.  Listless  is  gone.  He  declared  that, 
what  with  family  quarrels  in  the  morning,  and  ghosts  at  night,  he 
could  get  neither  sleep  nor  peace  ;  and  that  the  agitation  was  too 
much  for  his  nerves :  though  Mr.  Glowry  assured  him  that  the 
ghost  was  only  poor  Crow  walking  in  his  sleep,  and  that  the 
shroud  and  bloody  turban  were  a  sheet  and  a  red  nightcap." 

"  Well,  sir  ?" 

"  The  Reverend  Mr.  Larynx  has  been  called  off  on  duty,  to 
marry  or  bury  (I  don't  know  which)  some  unfortunate  person  or 
persons,  at  Claydyke  :  but  man  is  born  to  trouble  !" 

"  Is  that  all  ?" 

"  No.     Mr.  Toobad  is  gone  too,  and  a  strange  lady  with  him." 

«  Gone !" 

"  Gone.     And  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hilary,  and  Miss  O'Carroll :  they 


CHAP.  XIV.]  NIGHTMARE  ABBEY.  167 

are  all  gone.  There  is  nobody  left  but  Mr.  Asterias  and  his  son, 
and  they  are  going  to-night." 

"  Then  I  have  lost  them  both.'' 

"  Won't  you  come  to  dinner  ?" 

«  No." 

"  Shall  I  bring  your  dinner  here  ?" 

''  Yes." 

"  What  will  you  have  ?" 

"A  pint  of  port  and  a  pistol."* 

«  A  pistol !" 

"  And  a  pint  of  port.  I  will  make  my  exit  like  Werter.  Go. 
Stay.     Did  Miss  O'Carroll  say  any  thing  ?" 

"  No." 

"  Did  Miss  Toobad  say  any  thing  ?" 

"  The  strange  lady  ?     No." 

"  Did  either  of  them  cry  ?" 

«  No." 

"  What  did  they  do  ?" 

"  Nothing." 

"  What  did  Mr.  Toobad  say  ? 

"  He  said,  fifty  times  over,  the  devil  was  come  among  us." 

"  And  they  are  gone  ?" 

"  Yes ;  and  the  dinner  is  getting  cold.  There  is  a  time  for 
every  thing  under  the  sun.  You  may  as  well  dine  first,  and  be 
miserable  afterwards." 

"  True,  Raven.  There  is  something  in  that.  I  will  take  your 
advice  :  therefore,  bring  me " 

"  The  port  and  the  pistol  ?" 

"  No  ;  the  boiled  fowl  and  Madeira." 

Scythrop  had  dined,  and  was  sipping  his  Madeira  alone,  im- 
mersed  in  melancholy  musing,  when  Mr.  Glowry  entered,  fol- 
lowed by  Raven,  who,  having  placed  an  additional  glass  and  set 
a  chair  for  Mr.  Glowry,  withdrew.  Mr.  Glowry  sat  down  oppo- 
site Scythrop.  After  a  pause,  during  which  each  filled  and  drank 
in  silence,  Mr.  Glowry  said,  "  So,  sir,  you  have  played  your 
cards  well.  I  proposed  Miss  Toobad  to  you  :  you  refused  her. 
Mr.  Toobad  proposed  you  to  her  :  she  refused  you.     You  fell  in 

*  See  The  Sorrows  of  Werter,  Letter  93. 


168  NIGHTMARE  ABBEY.  [chap,  xi 

love  with  Marionetta,  and  were  going  to  poison  yourself,  because, 
from  pure  fatherly  regard  to  your  temporal  interests,  I  withheld 
my  consent.  When,  at  length,  I  oflered  you  my  consent,  you 
told  me  I  was  too  precipitate.  And,  after  all,  I  find  you  and 
Miss  Toobad  living  together  in  the  same  tower,  and  behaving  in 
every  respect  like  two  plighted  lovers.  Now,  sir,  if  there  be  any 
rational  solution  of  all  this  absurdity,  I  shall  be  very  much  obliged 
to  you  for  a  small  glimmering  of  information." 

"  The  solution,  sir,  is  of  little  moment ;  but  I  will  leave  it  in 
writing  for  your  satisfaction.  The  crisis  of  my  fate  is  come  :  the 
world  is  a  stage,  and  my  direction  is  exit.^^ 

''  Do  not  talk  so,  sir  ; — do  not  talk  so,  Scythrop.  What  would 
you  have  ?" 

"  I  would  have  my  love." 

"  And  pray,  sir,  who  is  your  love  ?" 

"  Celinda — Marionetta — either — both." 

''  Both  !  That  may  do  very  well  in  a  German  tragedy  ;  and 
the  Great  Mogul  might  have  found  it  very  feasible  in  his  lodgings 
at  Kensington  ;  but  it  will  not  do  in  Lincolnshire.  Will  you 
have  Miss  Toobad  ?" 

«  Yes." 

"  And  renounce  Marionetta  ?" 

"  No." 

"  But  you  must  renounce  one." 

"  I  cannot." 

"  And  you  cannot  have  both.     What  is  to  be  done  V' 

"  I  must  shoot  myself." 

"  Don't  talk  so,  Scythrop.  Be  rational,  my  dear  Scythrop. 
Consider,  and  make  a  cool,  calm  choice,  and  I  will  exert  myself 
in  your  behalf." 

"  Why  should  I  choose,  sir  1  Both  have  renounced  me  :  I  have 
no  hope  of  either." 

"  Tell  me  which  you  will  have,  and  I  will  plead  your  cause 
irresistibly." 

"  Well,  sir, — I  will  have — no,  sir,  I  cannot  renounce  either.  I 
cannot  choose  either.  I  am  doomed  to  be  the  victim  of  eternal 
disappointments  ;  and  I  have  no  resource  but  a  pistol." 

"  Scythrop — Scythrop  ; — if  one  of  them  should  come  to  you — 
what  then  ?" 


CHAP.  XIV.]  NIGHTMARE  ABBEY.  1G9 

"  That,  sir,  might  alter  the  case  :  but  that  cannot  be." 

"  It  can  be,  Scythrop  ;  it  will  be  :  I  promise  you  it  will  be. 
Have  but  a  little  patience — but  a  week's  patience — and  it  shall  be." 

"  A  week,  sir,  is  an  age  :  but,  to  oblige  you,  as  a  last  act  of 
filial  duty,  I  will  live  another  week.  It  is  now  Thursday  even- 
ing, twenty-five  minutes  past  seven.  At  this  hour  and  minute, 
on  Thursday  next,  love  and  fate  shall  smile  on  me,  or  I  will  drink 
my  last  pint  of  port  in  this  world." 

Mr.  Glowry  ordered  his  travelling  chariot,  and  departed  from 
the  abbey. 


170  NIGHTMARE  ABBEY. 


CHAPTER   XV. 

The  day  after  Mr.  Glowiy's  departure  was  one  of  incessant 
rain,  and  Scythrop  repented  of  the  promise  he  had  given.  The 
next  day  was  one  of  bright  sunshine  :  he  sat  on  the  terrace,  read 
a  tragedy  of  Sophocles,  and  was  not  sorry,  when  Raven  announced 
dinner,  to  find  himself  alive.  On  the  third  evening,  the  wind 
blev/,  and  the  rain  beat,  and  the  ovd  flapped  against  his  windows ; 
and  he  put  a  new  flint  in  his  pistol.  On  the  fourth  day,  the  sun 
shone  again  ;  and  he  locked  the  pistol  up  in  a  drawer,  where  he 
left  it  undisturbed,  till  the  morning  of  the  eventful  Thursday, 
when  he  ascended  the  turret  with  a  telescope,  and  spied  anxiously 
along  the  road  that  crossed  the  fens  from  Claydyke  :  but  nothing 
appeared  on  it.  He  watched  in  this  manner  from  ten  a.m.  till 
Raven  summoned  him  to  dinner  at  five  ;  when  he  stationed  Crow 
at  the  telescope,  and  descended  to  his  own  funeral-feast.  He  left 
open  the  communications  betvv^een  the  tower  and  turret,  and  called 
aloud  at  intervals  to  Crow, — '•'  Crow,  Crow,  is  any  thing  coming  ?" 
Crow  answered,  '-'  The  wind  blov/s,  and  the  windmills  turn,  but  I 
see  nothing  coming  ;"*and,  at  every  answer,  Scythrop  found  the 
necessity  of  raising  his  spirits  v/ith  a  bumper.  After  dinner,  he 
gave  Raven  his  watch  to  set  by  the  abbey  clock.  Raven  brought 
it,  Scythrop  placed  it  on  the  table,  and  Raven  departed.  Scythrop 
called  again  to  Crow  :  and  Crow,  who  had  fallen  asleep,  answered 
mechanically,  "  I  see  nothing  coming."  Scythrop  laid  his  pistol 
betv/een  his  watch  and  his  bottle.  The  hour-hand  passed  the 
VII. — the  minute-hand  moved  on  ;  it  was  within  three  minutes  of 
the  appointed  time.  Scythrop  called  again  to  Crow.  Crow  an- 
swered as  before.      Scythrop  rang  the  bell :  Raven  appeared. 

"  Raven,"  said  Scythrop,  '•  the  clock  is  too  fast." 

"  No,  indeed,"  said  Raven,  who  knew  nothing  of  Scythrop's 
intentions  ;  "  if  any  thing,  it  is  too  slow." 

'"  Villain !"  said  Scythrop,  pointing  the  pistol  at  him :  "  it  is 
too  fast." 


CHAP.  XV.]  NIGHTMARE  ABBEY.  171 

"  Yes — yes — ^too  fast,  I  meant,"  said  Raven,  in  manifest  fear. 

"  How  much  too  fast?"  said  Scythrop. 

"  As  much  as  you  please,"  said  Raven. 

"  How  much,  I  say  ?"  said  Scythrop,  pointing  the  pistol  again. 

"  An  hour,  a  full  hour,  sir,"  said  the  terrified  butler. 

"  Put  back  my  watch,"  said  Scythrop. 

Raven,  with  trembling  hand,  was  putting  back  the  watch, 
when  the  rattle  of  wheels  was  heard  in  the  court,  and  Scythrop, 
springing  down  the  stairs  by  three  steps  together,  was  at  the  door 
in  sufRcient  time  to  have  handed  either  of  the  young  ladies  from  the 
carriage,  if  she  had  happened  to  be  in  it ;  but  Mr.  Glowry  was 
alone. 

"  I  rejoice  to  see  you,"  said  Mr.  Glowry  ;  "  I  was  fearful  of 
being  too  late,  for  I  waited  till  the  last  moment  in  the  hope  of 
accomplishing  my  promise ;  but  all  my  endeavours  have  been 
vain,  as  these  letters  will  show." 

Scythrop  impatiently  broke  the  seals.  The  contents  were 
these : — 

"  Almost  a  stranger  in  England,  I  fled  from  parental  tyranny, 
and  the  dread  of  an  arbitrary  marriage,  to  the  protection  of  a 
stranger  and  a  philosopher,  whom  I  expected  to  find  something 
better  than,  or  at  least  something  different  from,  the  rest  of  his 
worthless  species.  Could  I,  after  what  has  occurred,  have  ex- 
pected nothing  more  from  you  than  the  common-place  imperti- 
nence of  sending  your  father  to  treat  with  me,  and  with  mine  for 
me  ?  I  should  be  a  little  moved  in  your  favour,  if  I  could  be- 
lieve you  capable  of  carrying  into  effect  the  resolutions  which 
your  father  says  you  have  taken,  in  the  event  of  my  proving  in- 
flexible ;  though  I  doubt  not  you  will  execute  them,  as  far  as  re- 
lates to  the  pint  of  wine,  twice  over,  at  least.  I  wish  you 
much  happiness  with  Miss  O'Carroll.  I  shall  always  cherish  a 
grateful  recollection  of  Nightmare  Abbey,  for  having  been  the 
means  of  introducing  me  to  a  true  transcendentalist ;  and,  though 
he  is  a  little  older  than  myself,  which  is  all  one  in  Germany,  I 
shall  very  soon  have  the  pleasure  of  subscribing  myself 

"  Celinda  Flosky." 

"  I  hope,  my  dear  cousin,  that  you  will  not  be  angry  with  me, 
but  that  you  will  always  think  of  me  as  a  sincere  friend,  who 


172  NIGHTMARE  ABBEY.  [chap.  xv. 

will  always  feel  interested  in  your  welfare  ;  I  am  sure  you  love 
Miss  Toobad  much  better  than  me,  and  I  wish  you  much  happi- 
ness  with  her.  Mr.  Listless  assures  me  that  people  do  not  kill 
themselves  for  love  now-a-days,  though  it  is  still  the  fashion  to 
talk  about  it.  I  shall,  in  a  Very  short  time,  change  my  name  and 
situation,  and  shall  always  be  happy  to  see  you  in  Berkeley 
Square,  when,  to  the  unalterable  designation  of  your  affectionate 
cousin,  I  shall  subjoin  the  signature  of 

"  Marionetta  Listless." 

Scythrop  tore  both  the  letters  to  atoms,  and  railed  in  good  set 
terms  against  the  fickleness  of  women. 

"  Calm  yourself,  my  dear  Scythrop,"  said  Mr.  Glowry ;  "  there 
are  yet  maidens  in  England." 

"  Very  true,  sir,"  said  Scythrop. 

"  And  the  next  time,"  said  Mr.  Glowry,  "  have  but  one  string 
to  your  bow." 

"  Very  good  advice,  sir,"  said  Scythrop. 

"  And,  besides,"  said  Mr.  Glowry,  "  the  fatal  time  is  past,  for 
it  is  now  almost  eight." 

"  Then  that  villain.  Raven,"  said  Scythrop,  "  deceived  me 
when  he  said  that  the  clock  was  too  fast ;  but,  as  you  observe 
very  justly,  the  time  has  gone  by,  and  I  have  just  reflected  that 
these  repeated  crosses  in  love  qualify  me  to  take  a  very  advanced 
degree  in  misanthropy ;  and  there  is,  therefore,  good  hope  that  I 
may  make  a  figure  in  the  world.  But  I  shall  ring  for  the  rascal 
Raven,  and  admonish  him." 

Raven  appeared.  Scythrop  looked  at  him  very  fiercely  two  or 
three  minutes ;  and  Raven,  still  remembering  the  pistol,  stood 
quaking  in  mute  apprehension,  till  Scythrop,  pointing  significantly 
towards  the  dining-room,  said,  "  Bring  some  Madeira." 


TEE  END. 


155  Broadway,  New- York, 

July,  ism 


G.  P.  PUTNAM^ S 

NEW    PUBLICATIONS. 


€xmih,  IhnratarEs,  anh  lisfnwrteg. 


IN    THE     EAST. 


N-ineveh  and  its  Remains  '^ 

With  an  Account  of  a  Visit  to  the  Chaldcean  Christians  of  Kurdistan,  and 
the  Yezidis,  or  Devil- Worshippers ;  and  an  Inquiry  into  the  Manrers 
and  Arts  of  the  Ancient  Assyrians. 

BY   AgSTEN   HENRY   LAYARD,   ESQ,,  D,  C.  L. 

With  Introductory  Note  by  Prof.  E.  Robinson,  D.  D.,  LL.  D. 
Illustrated  with  13  Plates  and  Maps,  and  90  Woodcuts.  2  vols.  8vo.  Cloth.  $4  50. 

"We  cannot  doubt  it  will  find  its  way  into  the  hands  of  scholars  and  thinkers  at  once,  and  we 
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most  useful  issues  of  the  season." — Evangelist. 

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dvertiser, 

1 


Q.    P.    PUTNAJNIS    NEW    PUBLICATIONS. 


fra^irls,  ahnitiirfs,  ml  BisrnHrrirs— 3ii  tjjB  fust, 

CONTINUED. 

NtTi'jveh  arid  its  Remains. — Continued. 

"  Taking  this  only  as  a  book  of  travels,  we 
have  read  none  for  a  long  time  more  interesting 
and  instructive." — Quarterly  Review. 

"  We  repeat  that  there  has  been  no  such  pic- 
ture in  any  modern  book  of  travels.  Park  is  not 
braver  or  more  adventurous,  Burkhardt  is  not 
more  truthful,  Eothen  not  more  gay  or  pictu- 
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"This  is.  we  think,  THE  MOST  EXTRA- 
ORDINARY WORK  OF  THE  PRESENT 
AGE.  whether  with  reference  to  the  wonderful 
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talent,  courage,  and  perseverance  of  its  au- 
thor. ••«•-•  ^g    ^jll    Qj^ly   3,jfJ      ,^ 

conclusion,  that  in  these  days,  when  the  fulfil- 
ment of  prophecy  is  engaging  so  much  atten- 
tion, we  cannot  but  considerthat  the  work  of 
Mr.  Layard  will  be  found  to  afford  many  ex- 
traordinary proofs  of  biblical  history." — Lcm- 
don  Times. 

"  Of  the  historical  value  of  his  discoveries,  too 
high  an  estimate  can  hardly  be  formed. "^A". 
Y.  Recorder. 

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does  indeed  remind  one  contmually  of  an  Arabian  tale  of  wonders  and  genii." — Dr.  Robinson  in 
Introductory  Note. 

"  The  work  of  Mr.  Layard  has  two  prominent  and  distinct  characters.  Its  narration  of  wonder- 
ful discoveries  is  of  hieh  and  absorhiuEr  interest;  but  as  a  book  of  modern  travels,  abounding  in 
liviiiij  and  piquant  de'^criptions  of  tlie  manners  and  habits  of  a  people  always  regarded  with  intense 
interest,  it  is  second  to  none." — Democratic  Rerietc. 

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"The  work  of  Layard  is  the  most  prominent  contribuiion  to  the  study  of  Antiquity,  that  has 
appeared  for  many  years." — Christian  Inquirer. 

"  Not  one  excels  in  mterest  the  account  of  Nineveh  and  its  Ruins,  given  by  Mr.  Layard."— 
Washington  Intelligence^)'. 

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selves before  a  massive  figure  carved  with  minute  accuracy,  now  lifting  its  gigantic  head  from  the 
dusi  of  3t»00  years,  we  are' ready  to  cry  out  with  the  astonished  Arabs,  '  Wallah,  it  is  wonderful,  but 
it  is  true  1'  " — Independent. 


Egypt  aiid  Its  Monuments., 


As  Illustrative  of  Scripture  History. 
BY  FRANCIS  L.  HAWKS,  D.  D.,  LL.  D.,  &c.,  &.C. 

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This  work  presents  a  comprehensive  and  authentic,  and  at  the  same  time  popular  view  of  all 
that  has  been  brought  to  liglu  by  modern  travellers,  illustrative  of  the  manners  and  customs,  art«, 
architecture,  and  dome=;tic  life  of  the  ancient  Egyptians — with  reference  to  other  ancient  remain* 
in  the  "  Old  and  New  World." 

*.*  The  following  are  some  of  the  architectural  illustrations,  beautifully  executed  m  tmt.  by 
Sarony  &  Major : — 

Sphinx  and  Pyramids,  Interior  of  a  Tomb, 

Great  Temnle  of  Karnac,  Koom—Omhos, 

Statues  of  Memnon,  Thebes,  Interior  of  Great  Temple,  Aboo-  Simbel,  ^0. 


G.  P.  Putnam's  new  publications. 

€xmtb,  %hukxn,  nnir  BiBinnBriBS— 3e  tljB  iBmt 

CONTINUED. 

Visits  to  Monasteries  in  tlie  Levant, 

BY  THE  HON.  ROBERT  CURZON. 

One  vol.,  post  8vo.     Illustrated  with  17  spirited  Engravings.     %\  50. 

LIST   OF   ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Monastery  of  Meteora, 
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Bedouin  Arab, 
Egyptian  in  Nizam  Dress, 
Interior  of  Atiyssinian  Library, 
Mendicant  Dervish, 
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Monastery  of  St.  Barlaam, 
Tartar,  or  Government  Messenger, 
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8 


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5 


G.    P.    PUTNAM  S    NEW   PUBLICATIONS. 


TJie  Genius  of  Italy  ; 

Being  Sketches  of  Italian  Life,  Literature,  and  Religion. 

BY    REV.    ROBERT   TURNBULL, 

Author  of  "  The  Genius  of  Scotland.^' 
1  vol.  12mo,  with  two  engravings.     ^1  25. 

The  edition  with  extra  illustrations,  handsomely  bound,  will  be  ready  m  the  autumn. 

"Mr.  Tunibull  gives  us  the  orange  groves,  and  the  fountains,  and  the  gondolas,  ar/o  .tie  frescoes 
and  the  ruins,  with  touches  of  personal  adventure,  and  sketches  of  biography,  and  glimpses  of  the' 
life,  literature,  and  religion  of  Modern  Italy,  seen  with  the  quick,  comprehensive  glances  of  an 
American  traveller,  impulsive,  inquisitive,  and  enthusiastic.  His  book  is  a  pleasant  record  of  a 
tourist's  impressions,  without  the  infliction  of  tho  tiresome  minutiae  of  his  everyday  experience." 
— Literary  World. 

"  At  a  moment  when  Italy  is  about  to  be  regenerated— when  the  loiisr-slumbering  spirit  of  the 
people  is  about  assuming  its  ancient  vigor,  a  work  of  this  kind  is  desirable.  *  *  *  The  country, 
Its  people,  and  prominent  features  are  given  with  much  truth  and  force."— Democratic  Review. 


1 


Views  A-Foot ; 

Or,  Europe  seen  with  Kiaapsack  and  Staff. 
BY    BAYARD   TAYLOR. 

New  edition,  with  an  additional  Chapter  of  Practical  Information  for  Pedes- 
trians in  Europe,  and  a  Sketch  of  the  Author  m  Pedestrian  Costume,  from 
a  Drawing  by  T.  Buchanan  Read      12mo.,  cloth,  $1  25. 

The  same,  fancy  cloth,  gilt  extra,  ,^1   75. 

''There  is  a  freshness  and  force  in  the  book  altogether  unusual  in  a  book  of  travels.  «  •  • 
As  a  text-book  for  travellers  the  work  is  essentially  valuable ;  it  tells  how  much  can  be  accom- 
plished with  very  limited  means,  when  energy,  curiosity,  and  a  love  of  adventure  are  the  promp- 
ters; sympathy  in  his  success  likewise,  is  another  source  of  interest  to  the  book.  *  *  '  The 
result  of  all  this  is,  a  wide-spread  popularity  as  a  writer,  a  very  handsomely  printed  book,  with  a 
very  handsome  portrait  of  the  author,  and  we  congratulate  liim  upon  the  attainment  of  this  and 
future  honors." — Union  Magazine. 


The  Spaniards  J  and  their  Ocnmtry. 

BY    RICHARD    FORD. 

l2mo,  green  cloth.     $1   00. 

"The  best  English  book,  beyond  comparison,  that  ever  has  appeared  for  the  illustration,  not 
merely  of  the  general  topography  and  local  curiosities,  but  of  the  national  character  and  mannen 
of  Spain  "—Quarterly  Revieic. 

"This  is  a  very  clever  and  amusing  work." — Louisville  Exam. 

"The  style  is  light,  dashing,  and  agreeable." — N.  Y.  Mirror. 

",*  Washington  Irving  commends  this  as  the  best  modern  popular  account  of  Spain. 


Scenes  and  Thoughts  in  Europe. 

BY    AN    AMERICAN. 

(Geo.  H.  Calvert,  Esq.,  Baltimore.)      l2rno.     50  cts. 

•'This  hook  is  a  delightful  instance  of  the  transforming  and  recreative  power  of  the  mind  upon 
•very  ih-i.'o-  M  touches.    The  must  hackneyed  ground  of  Europe,  persons  and  objects  that  have, 
been  the  thenie  .■^f  the  last  half  dozen  years  of  every  literary  remittance  from  abroad,  appeal' t 
us  clothed  with  new  cnt.rms  and  meaninirs,  because  examined  with  a  finer  penetration  than  th    . 
aave  been  by  anv  other  English  or  American  traveller."— Tr/^Mwe. 

6 


O.    p.    PUTN A:\rs    NEW    PUBLICATION'S. 


FMBtflri)~36iogra|i[ii]~6EOgrap!jq. 

The  Life  mul  Voyages  of  Ohristopher  Cohmilyiis. 

To  which  are  added  those  of  his  Companions. 
BY    WASHINGTON    IRVING. 

New  Edition,  Revised  and  Corrected.     Maps,  Plates,  and  copious   Index. 
3  vols.    l2mo,    green   cloth  uniform    with   the    new   edition   of  Irving's 
Works,  $4;  half  calf,  .$6;  half  morocco,  top  edge  gilt,  .$6  75  ;  full  calf, 
gilt,  $7  50.     The  Octavo  Edition,  in  3  vols.,  on  superfine  paper,  uniform 
with    Prescott's  Ferdinand    and    Isabella,    ^6;    half  calf,    ^8  50;    full 
calf,  $10 
"  One  of  the  most  fascinating  and  intensely  interesting  books  m  the  whole  compass  of  English 
Literature.     '     *     '     It  has  all  the  interest  conferreil  by  the  truth  of  history,  and  at  the  same  time 
the  varied  excitement  of  a  well  written  romance." — Western  Continent. 
'•  Perhaps  the  most  truly  valuable  of  the  Author's  writings." — Hoine  Journal. 
'•  The  History  of  Columbus  is  admirably  executed ;  and  though  a  true  and  faithful  history,  it  is 
as  interestit^  as  a  high  wrought  romance." 


The  Conquest  of  Florida. 

BY    THEODORE    IRVING. 

Prof,  of  History  and  Belles  Letters  in  the  Free  Academy. 

New   and   Revised   Edition,  Corrected,  with  Notes,   and   Illustrations  from 
various  recent  sources.     l2mo.     In  September, 


The  Monuments  of  Oenl/ral  and  Western  America; 

With  Comparative  Notices  of  those  in  Egypt,  India,  Assyria,  &c. 
BY  REV.  F.  L.  HAWKS,  D.  D.,  LL.  D. 

1  vol.  8vo. 

This  work  is  now  in  preparation,  uniform  with  "Nineveh,"  and  the  "Monuments  of  Egypt." 
It  will  cnmprir=e  a  comprehensive,  readable,  and  popular  view  of  the  whole  subject  of  Ancient  re- 
mair>s  on  the  American  continent — with  ample  Illustrations. 


Roman  lAherty :  A  History  / 

With  a  View  of  the  Liberty  of  other  Ancient  Nations. 

BY   SAMUEL   ELLIOT,   ESQ. 

Illustrated  with  twelve   engravings,  executed  at  Rome.     2  vols.,  Bvo,  uniform 
with  Prescott's  Historical  Works. 


History  of  the  Hehreio  Monarchy.^ 

From  the  Administration  of  Samuel  to  the  Babylonish  Captivity. 

BY  FRANCIS  NEWMAN,  D.  D., 

University  of  Oxford. 
8vo,  cloth,  $2   50. 


G.    P.    PUTNAJVl's    NEW    PUBLICATIONS. 


Jjistnni— 36ingrnpliti--£rngraplji(, 

C  O  N  T  1  N  U  E  n  . 

Itcdy ;  Past  and  Present: 

Or  General  Views  of  its  History,  Religion,  Politics,  Literature  and  Art. 

BY    L.   MARIOTTI, 

Prof,  of  Italian  Literature  in  London  University, 

2  vols.,  8vo,  cloth,  $3  50, 


The  Letters  and  Speeches  of  Oliver  Groniwell^ 

With  Elucidations, 
BY   THOS.   CARLYLE. 

The  Fine  Edition,  in  2  vols,.  Octavo,  with  Portrait.     Reduced  to  $2  50. 


Borroiv's  Autobiograpliy. — Life 


BY    GEORGE    BORROW, 

Author  of  "  The  Gipsies  of  Spain,"  "  The  Bible  in  Spain,"  Sfc 

To   be   published   simultaneously   by  John    Murray,   London,  and    G.    P. 
Putnam,  New- York.     In  one  volume,  l2nio.     In  December. 

•  *  This  will  be  a  work  of  intense  interest,  including  extraordinary  adventures  in  various  parta 
of  the  world. 


Jo'instoubS  Universal  Atlas. 

This  splendid  and  important  work — by  far  the  most  comprehensive,  correct 
and  useful  Atlas  now  extant,  was  published  recently  in  Edinburgh  at  the 
price  of  eight  guineas,  and  the  price  in  this  country  has  been  about  $50. 
G.  P.  Putnam  has  made  arrangements  for  an  edition  for  the  United  States, 
rendered  far  more  valuable  by  the  addition  of  a  COPIOUS  and  USEFUL 
INDEX  of  about  40,000  names  ;  but  the  maps  being  transferred  in  fac- 
simile on  stone,  the  American  publisher  is  enabled  to  supply  it  at  the 
low  price  of  $20 — elegantly  and  substantially  bound  in  half  morocco, 
gilt  edges.  The  maps  are  clearly  and  beautifoUy  executed,  and  are 
practically  fully  equal  to  the  original  edition.  The  work  contains  41 
large  and  splendid  maps. 

'•'■  Having  examined  many  of  the  Maps  of  the  National  Atlas,  1  have  no  hesitation  in  saying, 
Ihat  they  are  aa  accurate  iri  their  geographical  details  as  they  are  beautiful  in  their  execution."— 
Sir  David  Brewster. 

"  So  far  as  I  have  yet  examined  the  National  Atlas,  it  is,  in  beauty  of  execution  and  accuracy 
of  detail,  unrivalled  in  this,  and,  I  believe,  in  any  other  country." — Prof.  Traill. 

"Those  who  are  not  familiar  with  the  places  referred  to  in  theHisiory  of  the  French  Revolution 
will  frequently  find  a  reference  to  Maps  of  great  service  ;  and  the  Military  student  of  Napoleon's 
campaimis  in  Germany  and  France  will  see  the  theatre  of  war  admirably  delineated  in  ftlr.  John- 
ston's Maps  of  those  countries." — Alison's  History  of  Europe. 

"I  have  devoted  a  considerable  time  to  a  rigorous  examination  of  the  National  Atlas,  just  pub- 
lished, and.  in  impartiai  justice,  I  must  admit,  that  in  accuracy  of  construction,  and  elegance  of 
execution,  it  is  superior  to  any  other  with  which  I  am  acquainted." — Willicini  Galbraith,  F.R.& 
S.A.,  F  R.A.S. 

"These  beautiful,  accurate,  and  admirably  engraved  Maps  and  Illustrations,  are  deserving  M 
eveiy  praise  and  encouragement." — Edinburgh  New  Philosophical  Journal. 

"The  National  Atlas  is  truly  a  splendid  publication,  and  fully  deserves  not  only  the  distinctive 
name  it  bears,  but  also  national  patronage." — Literary  Gazette. 

8 


G.  P.  Putnam's  new  publications. 


Ii3tnrn™a6ingrflpljii™(0rngriiplnj. 

CONTINUED. 

Mohammed  and  his  Successors, 

BY    WASHINGTON    IRVING. 


12mo.     In  October. 


Oliver  Goldsmith  :  a  Biography, 

BY  WASHINGTON   IRVING. 

12mo.     $1  25. 

*,*  This  is  a  new  work,  just  completed.    Now  ready. 


George  Washington  :  a  Biography 

BY   WASHINGTON    IRVING, 

With  Illustrations.     In  preparation* 


The  Ancient  Monwments  of  the  Mississippi  Valley. 

Comprising  the  Results  of  Extensive  Original  Surveys  and  Explorations. 
BY  E.  G.  SQUIER,  A.  M.,  AND  E.  H.  DAVIS,  M.  D. 

With  numerous  Illustrations.     Royal  4to,  $10. 


Ten  Years  of  American  History  : 

1840-49 — including  a  History  of  the  Mexican  War  and  of  California. 
BY    EMMA    WILLARD. 

With  a  valuable  Map.     l2mo,  $1. 
9  2 


G.  P.  Putnam's  new  publications. 


Slrrljltnlure. 


Hints  on  Piiblic  Arcliitecture^ 

Prepared,  on  behalf  of  the  Building  Committee  of  the  Smithsonian  Institurion. 
BY    ROBERT    DALE    OWEN. 
In  large   Quarto,  elegantly  printed,  with   113    Illustrations  in  the  best  style 
of  the  Art.     Price  $6. 

"  While  the  Committee  offer  the  result  of  these  researches,  not  so 
much  to  the  protession  as  to  the  public,  and  to  public  bodies,  (as 
Vestries,  Building  Committees,  and  the  like.)  charged  with  the 
duties  similar  to  their  own,  they  indulge  the  hope  that'the  Architect 
also  may  find  subject  for  inquiry  and  material  for  thought.  '  *  * 
"  Money  is  expended  even  lavishly  to  obtain  the  rich,  the  showy, 
the  comnionplace.  But  this  period  of  transition  may  be  shortened. 
The  progress  of  painting  and  sculpture,  which,  in  other  lands,  has 
been  the  slow  growth  of  centuries,  has  been  hastened  in  our  country, 
thanks  to  the  genius  of  a  few  self-taught  men,  beyond  all  former 
precedent.  To  stimulate  genius  in  a  kindred  branch  of  art ;  to 
supply  suggestions  which  "may  call  off  from  devious  paths,  and 
mdicate  to  the  student  the  true'  line  of  progress;  and  thus  to  aid  in 
abridging  that  season  of  experiment  and  of  failure  in  which  the 
glittering  is  preferred  to  the  chaste,  and  the  gaudy  is  mistaken  for 
the  beautiful,  are  objects  of  no  light  importance.  In  such  con- 
siderations may  be  found  the  motive  and  the  purpose  of  the  follow- 
ing Tpa.^es.'"  —Extract from  the  Preface. 

'•This  work  should  be  in  the  hands  of  every  building  committee, 
vei?try,  city  corporation,  or  other  similar  body,  having  the  selections 
of  plans  for  building,  and  of  erery  individual  having  in  charire  a 
similar  duty.  It  is  The  only  work  with  which  we  are  acquainted 
especially  prepared  for  their  use.  It  should  find  its  way  to  the 
shelves  of  every  county  library  ;  for  by  reference  to  its  pages,  thou- 
sands of  dollars  may  be  saved  in  the  selection  of  a  proper  style  for 
court-houses,  chtirches.  and  other  public  edifices. 

"  ^or,  though  not  specially  addressed  to  the  profession,  is  it  of 
jess  value  to  the  architect.  There  is  much  in  this  volume  which 
every  member  of  the  profession  would  do  well  to  study. 

"Of  the  numerous  wood  engravings  which  form  the  chief  illus- 
trations of  this  vohime.  we  cannot  speak  too  highly.  Till  we  ex- 
amined them,  we  were  not  aware  to  what  perfection  the  art  had  been  carried  in  our  country. 
The  effect  of  several  of  the«e  (especially  of  the  frontispiece  by  Roberts)  is  equal  to  that  of  the 
best  steei  engravings  ;  and  the  whole  of  the  illustrations  are  exceedingly  creditable  to  American 
art. 

10 


G.    P.    PUTNAMS    :NEW    PUBLICATIONS. 


Jlrrljili-rturr. 

CONTINUED. 

'•  In  point  of  mechanical  execution  we  have  rarely  seen  its  equal."— iV.  Y.  Mirror. 
A  very  valuable  book.     *     '     *     In  point  of  typography  ami  embellishment  one  of  the  very 


^    r,hoicept  v'olumes  that  ever  issued  from  the  American  Press, 

•'  Mr  Owen  is  a  clear 
thi-^ker.  and  a  mati  of 
2reat  activity  of  mind, 
and  these  qualities  have 
i  in  pressed  themselves  on 
his  work,  which  is  writ- 
ten with  perspicuity  and 
vivaciiy.  The  principles 
and  sciences  of  architec- 
tural beauty  are  pointed 
out  with  much  beauty  of 
language  and  dexterity  of 
illustration. 

•'  We  understand  that 
Mr.  Putnam  has  expend- 
eil  on  this  work  many 
hundreds  of  dollars  be- 
yond the  amount  speci- 
fied in  his  contract  with 
the  Smithsonian  Institu- 
tion ;  and  as  the  copyright 
is  his,  we  trusi  he  will 
be  amply  remunerated 
for  his  liberality. ""iV.  Y. 
Eve.  Fust. 

"  The  best  work  on 
Architecture  ever  pub- 
lished in  the  U.  States. 
The  illustrations  are  very 
beautiful." — Pennsylva- 
nia Inquirer. 

"  The  book  is  one  which 
will  be  read  with  interest 
and  pleasure  even  by 
those  who  have  considered  architectuie 


Albion. 


~!J";:"'"'*'.n 


a  dry  «tudy 

''The  work  is  exceedingly  interesting,  while  to  public  bodies  it  is  one  ot  great  value;  and  we 
cannot  say  too  much  in  coinmendation  of  the  very  superior  style  in  which  the  publisher  has  pro- 
duced it."-.V.    Y.   Cum 
Adv. 

"  The  most  compre- 
hensive and  elegantly  il- 
lustrated treatise  on  arch- 
itecture that  has  yet  ap- 
peared m  this  country."-  - 
Boston  Transcript. 

"A  truly  admirable 
work — and  creiliialile  a- 
like  to  the  institution,  to 
the  editor,  and  to  the 
publisher."— Permsy/ra- 
nia  Inquirer. 

"  The  subject  of  which 
it  treats  is  one  of  vast 
importance  to  our  peo- 
ple, in  its  economical  not 
less  than  its  omamenial 
relations ;  ami  it  is  pre- 
sented here  in  such  a  way 
as  cannot  fail  both  to 
gratify  and  instruct." 
Philadelphia  N.  Ameri 
can. 


11 


G.    P.    PUTNAM  r^    N::\V    rr-BLICATIONS. 


Tanij:iiaj!F  Cari^rinng. 


A  Tr^eatUe  on  the  Theory  and  Practice  of  Landscape 
Gardening  and  Rural  Architecture^ 

Adapted  to  North  America.  With  a  view  to  the  Improvement  of  Country 
Residences — comprising  Historical  Notices,  and  General  Principles  of  the 
Art;  Directions  for  laying  out  Grounds  and  arranging  Plantations;  the 
Description  and  Cultivation  of  Hardy  Trees  :  Decorative  Accompaniments 
to  the  House  and  Grounds  ;  the  Formation  of  Pieces  of  Artificial  Water, 
Flower  Gardens,  &,c  ;  wath  Remarks  on  Rural  Architecture. 


BY    A.   J.    DOWNING. 


Fourth  Edition,  Revised.  Enlarged,  and  Ne\ 
volume,  --vm  ,  fl,,;li,  .n'I   50. 


•ly  Illustrated.     One  handsome 


"  John  Bull  looks  at  Brother  Jonathan 
with  a  strange  compourul  of  feeling.s.  He 
dislike.^  him  as  a  rival;  he  loves  him.  and 
is  proud  of  him.  as  bein?.  after  all.  of  hia 
own  flesh  and  blood.  But  whenever,  in 
science,  art.  or  literature.  Jonathan  treads 
rather  sharply  on  the  heels  of  John,  the 
said  John  bellows  out  most  lustiiy.  Of  all 
the  arts  of  the  univer&e  which  were  likely 
to  be  the  ground  of  competition  between, 
progenitor  and  descendant,  I.and.scape 
hardening  woxild,  in  this  case,  seetn  to  be 
the  last.  "And  yet,  our  American  hrelhren. 
so  far  from  being  behind  us  in  skill,  en- 
/fiifsiasm,  or  execution,  seem  to  be  taking 
the  lead  most  decidedly.  '  "  '  There 
i<!  now  lyinff  before  us  a  thick  octavo 
voluiTie  of  about  .500  pages,  entitled  'A 
Treaii'^e  on  the  Theory  and  Practice  of 
Landscape  Gardening,  adapted  to   North 


12 


G.    P.    PUTJ^A:\r8    iSEW    PUBLICATIONS. 


InnifsrEpB  (l?nrkning; 


CONTINUED. 

America.'  It  is  by  A.J.  Downing,  author  of 'Desims  for  Cottnge  Residences,  dw;.'  *  '  * 
The  volume  itself  is  beautifully  got  up.  It  is  full  of  admirably  executed  illustrations,  represent 
ing  very  numerous  landscape  gardening  and  architectural  effects.  It  has  reached  ita  second 
edition  In  1844,  although  an  expen-^ive  work;  a  consummation  which  a  similar  treatise,  published 
in  England,  by  an  English  Landscape  Gardener,  could  scarcely  have  hoped  to  reach.  *  *  '  So 
mucirfor  the  present;  details  will  come  forth  hereafter;  and  then,  most  excellent  John  Bull, 
you  will  see  tnat  this  is  no  time  to  fold  your  arms,  and  loll  in  your  chair,  as  if  the  race  had  been 
won  and  the  prize  already  yours.  You  have  not  gained  the"  victory,  nor  the  prize."— Lnnfi/m 
"  Gardener's  Chronicle"  Edited  by  Prof.  Lindley. 

"  Mr.  Downing  has  here  produced  a  very  delightful  work,  and  has  convinced  us  that  sound 
"riticism  and  refined  taste,  in  matters  of  art,  are  noT  confined  to  this  side  of  the  Atlantic." — London 
A  rt  Union  Journal. 

"The  principles  he  lays  down  are  not  only  sound,  but  are  developed  on  a  uniform  system 
which  is  not  paralleled  in  any  English  work." — Prof.  Lindley's  Chronicle,  London. 

"A  masterly  work." — London. 

"  There  is  no  work  extant  which  can  be  compared  m  ability  to  Downing's  volume  on  this  sub- 
ject. It  is  not  overlaid  with  elaborate  and  learned  disquisition,  like  the  English  works,  but  in 
truly  practical." — Louisville  Journal. 

"  The  standard  work  on  this  subject." — Silliman's  Jonrnal. 


JtlinBrnlngtf, 

Daiia^s  System  of  MineraUK/y. 

A  System  of   Mineralogy — Comprising  the    most    recent   discoveries ;    with 
numerous  wood-cuts  and  four  copper- plates. 

BY   JAMES    D.    DANA, 

Geologist  of  the  U.  S.  Exploring  Expedition. 

The    third    Edition    of  this    valuable    and    important    work,    with    essential 
additions  and  revisions,  bringi;ig  the  subject   down  to  the  present  hour — 
is  now  in  the  Press,  and  will  be  published  shortly.     8vo.,  $3  50. 
"This  work  does  sreat  honor  to  America,  and  .should  make  us  b!u.=ih  for  the  neglect  in  England 
of  an  important  and  interestine  ^c\e\\cc."'— London  Alhettrtnni. 

13 


G.    P.    PUTNAM  8    NEW    PUBLICATIONS. 


important  Sootnnirnl  IBork.s. 

Tlie  Genera  of  the  Plants  of  the  United  States. 

Genera  Flora&   Boreali-Orientali   Illustrata :   illustrated  by  Figures  and  Ana- 
lyses from  Nature,  by  Isaac  Sprague.     Superintended,  with   descriptions, 
&c.,  by  Prof  A.  Gray.     Vol.  I,  plates  1— lUO,  Svo,  cloth,  $G.     Vol.  II, 
plates,  Svo,  cloth,  .$6. 
*.*    The  Second  roliime  trill  be  ready  in  August. 

'•The  design  of  this  work  is  to  illustrate  the  Botany  of  the  United  States  by  figures,  with  full 
analyses  of  one  or  more  species  of  each  genus,  accompanied  by  descriptive  generic  characters  and 
critical  observations.     The  figures  are  in  all  ca.ses  drawn  directly  from  nature." — Ext.  Pre/ace. 

' /  This  is  undoubtedly  the  most  important  botanical  work  ever  published  in  the  United  States. 
The  Illustrations  are  executed  in  a  very  superior  style.  G.  P.  Putnam  is  now  the  sole  pubUsher 
of  the  work. 


Flora  of  Nortli  America  ; 

Containing  Descriptions  of  all  the  known  Indigenous  and  Naturalized  Plants 
growing  north  of  Mexico  ;  according  to  the  Natural  System,  By  Prof. 
John  Torrey  and  Prof  A.  Gray.     Vol.  I,  Svo,  cloth,  $6. 

The  same.  Part  I  to  VI,  each  $1   50:   Part  VII,  ,^l. 

*,*  This  elaborate  and  valuable  work  will  form  three  volumes,  octavo.    The  remainder  will 
be  issued  as  soon  as  practicable. 


Prof.  Gra/jfs  Botanical  Text  Boo\ 


For  Colleges  and  High  Schools. 
on  Wood.     Large  l2mo,  cloth 


New  Edition,  with  about  1000  Engravings 
:1  75. 


Part    I. — An  Introduction  to  Structural  and  Physiological  Botany. 

Part  II. — The  Principles  of  Systematic  Botany  ;  with  an  Account  of  the  Chief 
Natural  Families  of  the  Vegetable  Kingdoms,  &,c.  &c. 

'.'  This  is  by  far  the  most  comprehensive,  clear  and  correct  text-book  on  Botany  now  in  use. 
It  is  introduced  in  the  University  of  Edinburgh,  and  is  used  in  Harvard  and  many  other  Amiiricac, 
Colleges. 


Prof.  Gray's  Manual  of  the  B^any  of  the  Northern  States. 

14 


l-2mo.     $2. 


Ct.  p.  putnams  new  publications. 


AUTHOR'S  REVISED   EDITION. 
Elegantly  printed  in  15  vols,  (including  new  works)  and  neatly  bound  in  dark  cloth. 
rol. 

I.  Knickerbocker's  New-  York  -        -  1  vol.  $1  25. 

II.   The  Sketch  Book      -        -        -  1  vol.     1  25. 

III.  1 

IV.  V  Columbus  and  His  Companions  3  vols.  4  00. 

VI.  Bracebridge  Hall 
VII.    Tales  of  a  Traveller 
VIII.  Astoria^  (pp.  510  with  map)  - 
IX.   The  Crayon  Miscellany    - 
X.   Capt.  Bonneville' s  Adventures^  map  1  vol. 
*XI.   Oliver  Goldsmith,  a  Biography 
*XII.  Mohamm^ed  and  his  iSuccessors 
*XIII.   The  Co7iquest  of  Granada  - 
*XIV.   TheAlhambra- 
*XV.  [A  new  volume.]   -         -         - 

*  Those  marked  thus  are  not  yet  ready,  June,  1849. 

*,*  Either  volume,  or  complete  sets  may  also  be  had  substantially  bound  in  half  calf,  75  ctB. 
extra;  half  morocco  $1  extra;  full  calf,  $1  25  extra. 

NOTICES  OF  THE  NEW  EDITION  OF  IRVING. 

"The  typography  of  this  series  is  all  that  could  be  desired.  Nothing  superior  to  it  has  issued 
from  the  "American  press.  Irvins  will  be  amons:  American  classics  what  Goldsmith  is  among 
those  of  the  Fatherland.  His  works  have  not  been  crowded  from  our  shelves  by  the  hosts  of  new 
claimants  for  public  favor,  who  have  appeared  since  the  Sketch  Book  was  in  every  body's  hands. 
We  have  often  wondered  in  common  wun  other  readers,  why  there  was  no  good  American  edition 
of  his  writings  ;  but  his  place  in  our  literary  affections  remains  as  high  as  ever.  The  desideratum 
of  which  we  speak,  is  now  to  be  supplied  by  Mr.  Putnam  ;  and  we  are  now  to  have  an  elegant 
uniform  edition  of  the  works  of  our  foremost  writer  in  the  belles-lettres  department  of  literature." 
— Boston  Evening  Transcript. 

"The  announcement  that  a  new  edition  of  the  works  of  this  admired  author  was  in  progress, 
ha-s  led  us  to  revert  with  pleasure  to  the  delight  we  enjoyed  in  our  first  acquaintance  with  him 
through  his  charmin?  books.  He  was  the  first  of  American  writers  in  the  department  of  elegant 
literature  who  obtained  a  wide  name  and  fame  in  the  old  world.  Great  Britain.  France,  Northern 
and  Southern  Europe,  are  alike  familiar  with  his  delightful  and  most  healthful  writings,  and 
doubtless  his  own  good  standing  abroad  has  done  more  than  any  other  single  cause  to  introduce 
the  names  and  works  of  others  of  our  countrymen.  There  is  a  charm  abouthis  writinsrs  to  which 
old  and  young,  the  educated  and  the  simple,  bear  cheerful  witness.  *  *  *  Several  >iew  works 
have  not  yet  seen  the  lisht.  Amon?  these  is  announced  a  Life  of  Mohammed,  and  a  Life  of 
Washineion.  As  to  the  latter  subject  for  a  volume,  we  can  only  say,  that  if  another  Life  of  Wash- 
ington needs  be  written — which  we  doubt— we  shoidd  prefer,  of  all  men,  to  have  Washington 
Irvine  undertake  it.  The  other  promi^^ed  biography,  the  Life  of  Mohammed,  is  a  grand,  an  unex- 
hausted, and  a  most  inviiins  theme.  It  has  never  yet  been  well  treated,  nor  is  it  probable  that 
there  is  a  man  on  this  Continent  better  qualified  to  treat  it  with  di.«crimination  and  power,  and 
with  faithfulness  to  the  truth,  than  Washington  Irvin?.  If  our  country  can  be  covered  with  a 
large  issue  of  his  writings,  it  will  make  some  amends  for  the  flood  of  trumpery  which  the  Presa 
has  poured  over  it." — Christian  Register. 

"The  most  tasteful  and  elegant  books  which  have  ever  issued  from  the  American  Press. "  — T'rid 

15 


1  vol. 

1  25. 

1  vol. 

1  25. 

1vol. 

1  50. 

1  vol. 

1  25. 

1  vol. 

1  25. 

1vol. 

1  25. 

1  vol. 

1vol. 

1  25. 

1  vol. 

1  25. 

1  vol. 

1  25. 

G.    P.    PITJVA.MS    ^EAV    PUBLICATIONS. 


mt5  mn5--3\m  'iBorb. 

1849-50. 

THE  AUTHOR'S  REVISED   EDITION. 

The  Spy  :  A  Tale  of  the  Neutn^al  Ground. 

New   Edition.      Revised,   &c.,  with   Introduction   and    Notes,   handsomely 
printed,  uniform  with  the  Sketch-Book,  &c.     12mo,  cloth,  $1  25. 


The  Pilot :  A  Tale  of  the  Sea, 

12mo.  ^1  25.     In  Spptemher.     To  be  followed  by  other  vols,  at  intervals. 


MR.  COOPER'S   NEW  WORK. 
The  Ways  of  the  Hour. 

12mo,  uniform  with  "  The  Spy."     In  press. 

"  The  public  will  cordially  welcome  a  new  and  complete  edition  of  this  author's  admirable  tales, 
revised,  corrected,  and  illustrated  with  notes  by  himself.  This  is  No.  1  of  the  new  series,  and  ia 
got  up  in  the  style  of  Irving's  works,  which  we  have  over  and  over  again  commended.  As  for  the 
tale  itself,  there  is  no  need  to  speak  of  it.  It  has  a  place  on  every  shelf,  and  at  once  made  the  fame 
of  its  author.  It  is  an  absolute  pleasure  to  the  lover  of  books  to  find  the  ultra-cheap  system  going 
out  of  vogue." — N.  Y.  Albion. 

"  We  are  happy  to  see  Mr.  Putnam  bringing  out  these  American  classics,  the  works  of  Cooper 
and  Irving,  to  refresh  the  present  generation  as  they  amused  the  last.  We  belong,  as  their  two 
fine  authors  do,  to  both,  if  men  of  a  buoyant  temper  and  an  unflagging  spirit  ever  pass  from  one 
generation  to  another.  We  remember,  as  of  yesterday,  with  what  eagerness  we  drank  in  the  tale 
:>{  '  The  Spy,'  when  it  first  saw  the  light ;  and  how  we  admired  the  genius  of  its  author,  from  the 
beauty  of  us  production.  We  can  enjoy  it  still ;  and  so  will  every  American  who  has  taste  enough 
to  appreciate  an  American  narrative,  told  so  well  by  an  American  writer."— T^as/im^/o7i  Union. 

''  '  The  Spy '  is  the  most  truly  national  fiction  ever  produced  in  America.  *  *  *  It  is  esteemed 
abroad  even  more  than  at  home,  for  it  has  been  translated  into  almost  every  European  language, 
and  the  prejudiced  critics  of  the  North  British  Review  have  almost  consented  to  give  it  rank 
wilh  'The  Antiquary'  and  '  Old  Mortality.'  "—Richmond  Times. 


Gla/rence  ;  or  Twenty  Years  Since. 


The  Author's  Revised  Edition  ;  complete  in  one  vol.     Uniform  with  Irving's 
Works.     In  August. 


Redwood. 

The  Author's  Revised  Edition  ;  complete  in  one  vol.     In  September, 


A  New  England  Tah  ; 

Complete  in  one  vol.     In  October. 
16 


G.  P.  Putnam's  i^^ew  publications. 


%tlin  ttiins—Mm  Wuh. 

CONTINUED. 

EXTRAORDINAKY   AND   ROMANTIC   ADVENTURES. 

"Kaloolah    will    be    the    book." 

Kaloolah  ;   or^  Journeying-s  to  tJie  Djehel  KwrrurL 

An  Autobiography  of  Jona.  Romer. 
EDITED   BY   W.  S.  MAYO,  M.  D. 

Illustrations  by  Darley,  beautifully  engraved  and  printed  in  tint,  12mo,  cloth,  .$1  50. 

"  The  most  singular  and  captivating  narrative  since  Robinson  Crusoe." — Home  Journal. 

"  '  Kaloolah  will  be  '  The  Book.'  If  it  does  not  excite  a  sensation  in  the  reading  public  we  will 
be  perfectly  contented  to  distrust  our  judgment  in  such  matters  in  future." — Merchant's  Journal. 

"  Ry  far  the  most  attractive  and  entertaining  book  we  have  read  since  the  days  we  were  fasci- 
nated by  the  chef  d'ccuvre  of  Defne  or  the  graceful  inventions  of  the  Arabian  Nights.  It  is  truly  an 
American  novel— not  v/holly  American  in  scenery,  but  American  in  cliaracter  and  American  in 
sentiment  " — U.  S.  Magazine  and  Democratic  Review. 

"  We  have  never  read  a  work  of  fiction  with  more  interest,  and  we  may  add,  profit — combining, 
as  it  does,  with  the  most  exciting  and  romantic  adventures,  a  great  deal  of  information  of  various 
kinds.  The  heroine,  Kaloolah,  is  about  as  charming  and  delicate  a  specimen  of  feminine  nature, 
as  we  recollect  in  any  work  of  imagination  or  fancy.  We  will  answer  for  it  that  all  readers  will 
be  perfectly  delighted  with  her." — Journal  of  Education. 

"  We  have  met  with  no  modern  work  of  fiction  that  has  so  entranced  us.  The  former  part  of 
Kaloolah  carries  the  reader  captive  by  the  .<:ame  irresi.'tible  charm  that  is  found  in  the  pages  of 
Robinson  Crusoe,  than  which  imperishable  work,  however,  it  presents  a  wider  and  more  varied 
field  of  adventure  ;  while  the  latter  part  expands  into  scenes  of  splendor,  magnificence,  and  en- 
chantment, unsurpassed  by  those  of  the  Arabian  Nights'  Entertainment."— Cwn.  Advertiser. 


Letters  from  the  Alleghany  Mountains. 

BY    CHARLES    LANMAN, 

Librarian  of  the  War  Department ;  Author  of  '■'•  A  Summer  in  the  Wilderness,"  d;c. 

l2mo,  75  cts. 

'.*  The?:e  letters  are  descriptive  of  one  of  the  most  interestine  regions  in  the  old  states  of  the 
Union,  which  has  never  before  been  described  by  any  traveller,  and  they  will  be  found  to  contain  a 
great  amount  of  valuHble  information,  as  well  as  many  characteristic  anecdotes  and  legends  of 
the  western  parts  of  North  and  South  Carolina,  Georgia,  and  Tennessee. 


The  TnrMsh  Eh:ening  JEntertainments  : 

The  Wonders  of  Memorials  and  the  Rarities  of  Anecdotes.     By  Ahmed  Bef 
Hempen,  the  Kiyaya.     Translated  from  the  Turkish. 

BY  JOHN   P.  BROWN,  ESQ., 

Dragoman  of  the  Legation  of  the  United  States,  at  Constantinople. 
l2mo.     hi  September. 

"It  is  by  far  the  most  interesting  book  that  has  been  published  at  Constantinople  for  a  lone  time. 
*  *  *  The  historical  and  amusing  interest  of  the  two  hundred  and  seven  curiosities,  which  1 
might  call  anecdotes,  is  so  obvious,"  &c. —  Von  Hammer,  the  celebrated  Orientalist,  to  the 
Translator. 

'  This  book  is  one  of  the  most  interesting  and  amusing  which  has  appeared." — Jour.  Asintiqiie 

17 


G.  P.  Putnam's  new  publications. 


BuHjwer  and  Forhes  on  tJie  Water  Treatment. 

Edited,  with  additional  matter,  by  Roland  S.  Houghton,  A.  M.,  M.  D.     One 
volume,  l2mo,  cloth,  75  cts. 

CONTENTS. 

I.  Bulwer's  "Confessions  of  a  Water  Patient."  II.  Dr.  Forbes  on  Hydropathy.  III.  Remarks 
on  Bathing:  and  the  Water  Treatment,  by  Erasmus  Wilsoi.,  M.  D.,  F.  U.  S,  author  of  *•  Wilhon'.s 
Anatomy,"  '•  Wilson  on  Healthy  Skin,"  «fec.  IV.  Medical  Opinions,  by  Sir  Charles  S;udamoie, 
Herbert  Mayo,  Drs.  Cooke,  Freeman,  Heaihcote,  &c.  V.  Observations  on  Hygiene  and  the  Water 
Treatment,  by  tiie  Editor. 

The  object  of  this  work  is  to  interest  literary  and  professional  men,  and  all  other  persons  of  se- 
dentary habiis  or  pursuits  in  the  subjeci  of  Hy<jiene  and  the  Water  Treatment,  to  attract  their 
attention  to  the  importance  of  acquiring  a  correct  knowledge  of  Health,  with  a  view  to  the  f  re- 
vention  and  cure  of  disease  by  Hygienic  management,  aril  to  define  those  leading  general  princi- 
ples which  lie  at  the  basis  of  genuine  Water  Cure. 


Essays  and  Orations. 

By  Rev.  George  W.  Bethunf,  D.  D. 
One  volume,  l2mo.     In  Sept. 

This  volume  will  comprise  all  the  popular  occasional  Orations  and  Discourses  of  the  distin- 
guished author;  and  the  variety  and  importance  of  the  subjects  discussed  are  such  as  to  render  the 
volume  exceedingly  interesting  and  attractive  to  the  general  reader. 


Coleridg^s  Biograpliia  lAteraria. 

Biographia  Literaria  ;  or  Biographical  Sketches  of  ray  Literary  Life  and  Opi- 
nions. By  Samuel  Taylor  Coleridge.  From  the  2d  London  edition,  pre- 
pared for  publication  by  the  late  H.  N.  Coleridge.     2  vols.  12mo.      $2. 

"  His  rnind  contains  an  astonishing  map  of  all  sorts  of  knowledge,  while  in  his  power  and  man- 
ner of  putting  it  to  use,  he  displays  more  of  what  we  mean  by  the  term  genius  than  any  mortal  1 
ever  saw,  or  ever  expect  to  see."—Juhn  rosier. 


A  Lift  for  the  Lazy  ; 

Neatly  printed  in  duodecimo.     75  cts. 

"They  have  been  at  a  great  feast  of  languages  and  stolen  the  scraps."— ;S%ay!;speare. 

«  'r/ y^)^  T,°l!^™^'  printed  in  a  novel  style,  comprises  comprehensive  and  original  materials  for 
1  able  1  alk  —such  as  literary  anecdotes  and  statistics,  origin  of  words,  philological  curiosities, 
quaint  scraps  from  old  authors,  strange  customs,  odd  sayings ;  in  short,  as  a  commonplace  book 
01  an  extensive  reader  and  shrewd  observer;  it  is  a  most  acceptable  "  lift"  for  those  who  are  too 
lazy  or  too  busy  to  read  whole  libraries  for  themselves. 


Tlie  Fowfitain  of  Living  Waters. 

BY    A    LAYMAN. 

In  a  neat  and  elegant  presentation  volume,  with  a  Vignette.     In  October. 

"  And  the  Spirit  and  the  Bride  say.  Came  ; 
And  let  him  that  heareth  say.  Come  : 
And  let  him  that  is  athirst,  Come  ; 
And  whosoever  will,  let  him  take  of  the  water  of  life  freely." 

Rev.  22:  17 

18 


a.  p.  PUTis-AMS  NEW  PUBLIC atio:n^s. 


Cfjoire  Slluigtruttii  56onb. 

T/ie  Illustrated  Knickerhocker  ; 

The  History  of  Neiv-York^ 
From  the  Beginning  of  the  World  to  the  end  of  the  Dutch  Dynasty:  containing, 
among  many  surprising  and  curious  matters,  the  Unutterable  Ponderings 
of  Walter  the  Doubter  ;  the  Disastrous  Projects  of  William  the  Testy,  and 
the  Chivalric  Achievements  of  Peter  the  Headstrong — the  Three  Dutch 
Governors  of  New- Amsterdam :  Being  the  only  authentic  History  of  the 
Times   that  ever  hath   been  or    ever  will  be  published. 

BY    DIEDRICH    KNICKERBOCKER. 

Illustrated  with  15  superior  engravings  on  wood,  by  the  most  eminent  artists, 
from  Designs  by  Darley,  viz  : 
Olnffe  Van  Kortland  measuring  the  land  with  ,  Portrait  of  Diedrich  Knickerbocker,  from  an 
Tenbroeck^ s  breeches.  original  painting  lately  discovered  by  the 

Vision    of  Oloffe  the  Dreamer,  of  the  future  Expedition  to  Holland. 

city  of  New-Amsterdam.  The  Dutch  Exploring  Expedition  cast  awav 

The  Peach  War.  '  at  Hurlgate. 

Portrait  of  Wouter  Van  TwiUer,from  authen-     Dutch  Lover. 

tic  sources.  Kiddermeisten  in  his  Coffin. 

Gen.   Van  Poffenburg,  practicing  war  on  the    Battle  at  Fort  Christina. 

Sunflowers.  Knickerbocker  raging  at  the  crying  children. 

Knickerbocker  making  his  bow  to  the  public.  \ 
And  a  larger  illustration  on  stone,  from  a  drawing  by  Heath,  of  London  ; 

a  humorous  representation  of  Peter  Stuyvesant's  Army. 
Elegantly  printed  in  Royal  Octavo.     Price  in  cloth,  $3  50  ;  extra  dark  cloth, 
gilt  edges,  ,^4  ;    dark  calf,  antique  style,  ^5  ;    morocco  extra,  $6.     In 
September. 


The  Illustrated  Shetch-Booh, 

The   Sketch-Book. 

BY    WASHINGTON    IRVING. 

Illustrated  with  a  series  of  highly-finished  Engravings  on  Wood,  from  Designs 
by  Darley  and  others,  Engraved  in  the  best  style  by  Childs,  Herrick,  &c. 
One  volume,  square  octavo,  cloth  extra,  $3  50  ;  cloth  gilt,  ^4  ;  morocco 
extra,  $6. 

"We  confess  that  we  know  of  none  in  this  country  so  competent  to  the  task  of  illustrating  this 
work  as  the  young  artist  selected  for  the  purpose,  Felix  Darley,  some  of  whose  designs  we  have 
had  the  pleasure  of  seeing.  They  are  full  of  the  quiet,  Cniyoni-^h  humor  peculiar  to' the  author, 
and  drawn  with  the  same  elegant  finish  and  freedom  from  blemish  which  distinguish  all  his  works. 
Until  we  saw  ihe.se  designs  we  were  incredulous  as  to  the  ability  of  any  of  our  native  artiata  to 
properly  illustrate  the  humorous  passages  of  Irving's  writings." — Evening  Mirror. 


Tlie  Illustrated  Tales  of  a  Traveller, 
Tales   of  a    Traveller . 

BY    WASHINGTON    IRVING. 

Illustrated  with  15  designs  by  Darley,  engraved  on  wood  in  the  first  style  by 
Childs,   Herrick,  Leslie,  Bobbet,  Edmonds,  &c.      One  volume.  Royal  8vo, 
same  style  and  prices  as  the  Knickerbocker. 
.*  It  is  intended  that  the  engravings  in  this  volume  and  in  the  Knickerbocker  shall  exceed  in 
excellence  any  thing  of  the  kind  yet  produced  in  this  country.     It  will  be  ready  in  October. 

19 


CONTINUED 

The  Illustrated  Goldsmith. 

Oliver    Goldsmith^   a   Biography. 
BY   WASHINGTON    IRVING. 

With  about  40  Illustrations  selected  by  the  publisher  from  Forster's  Life  ot 
Goldsmith,  beautifully  engraved  on  wood  by  W.  Roberts.  8vo.  In 
August. 


Family  Pictures  from  the  JBiUe. 

EDITED    BY    MRS.    E.    F.    ELLETT. 

Comprising  original  articles  by  Rev.  Dr.  Bethune,  Rev.  H.  Field,   Rev.  Mr. 

Burchard,  and  other  Eminent  Divines. 
Illustrated  with  designs  by  Darley,  elegantly  printed,  l2mo.     In  Sept. 


The  Illustrated  Monuments  of  Egijpt. 

Egypt  and   Its   Monuments. 

As  Illustrative  of  Scripture  History. 

BY   REV.  DR.   HAWKS. 

With  Architectural  and  other  Views  finely  executed  on  stone,  and  numerous 
engravings  on  wood,  from  the  works  of  Rossellini,  ChampolHon,  Wilkin- 
son, &c.    Royal  8vo.     In  September. 


The  Illustrated  Nineveli. 

Layard^s   Nineveh   and  its  Remains. 

With  10.3  Illustrations  on  wood  and  on  stone.     2  vols,  in  one,  handsomely 
bound  in  half  morocco,  gilt  edges,  $5  ;  calf  extra,  antique  style,  $6. 


The  Illustrated  Italy. 

The   Genius   of  Italy., 

Or  Sketches  of  Italian  Life,  Literature  and  ReU^on. 

BY    REV.    ROBERT   TURNBULL. 

With  views  of  Milan  Cathedral,  the  Roman  Forum,  Pompeii,  St.  Peters,  and 
the  Lake  of  Como,  beautifully  engraved  on  wood,  elegantly  bound  in 
extra  cloth,  gilt  edges,  ^2.     In  September. 

20 


G.  P.  Putnam's  new  publications. 


€^uixt  3llu3tnitrii  33nnki 


CONTINUED 


The  Illustrated  PilgriiiiUs  Progress. 


New  and  beautiful  edition  of  Pil^im's  Progress,  (in  an  elegant  volume,  uni- 
form with  Tilt's  Illustrated  Milton,  &c.)  To  be  published  simultaneously 
by  David  Bogue,  London,  and  Geo.  P.  Putnam,  New-York,  a  new  and 
beautifully  Illustrated  Edition  of  Bunyan's  Pilgrim's  Progress  ;  with  a 
new,  original  Life  of  Bunyan,  written  expressly  for  this  Edition,  by  Rev. 
George  B.  Cheever,  D.  D.  The  whole  containing  from  250  to  300  Illus- 
trations, exquisitely  Engraved  on  Wood,  by  the  best  Engravers  in  London, 
from  Original  Drawings  by  an  Eminent  Artist,  and  Printed  in  the  best 
Style  of  the  Art.     In  one  elegant  volume. 

prospectus. 

In  introducing  to  public  notice  a  new  edition  of  The  Pilgrim's  Progress— the  most  popular  book 
in  the  English  Language— it  is  unnecessary  to  expatiate  on  the  merits  so  universally  admitted  as 
those  of  the 

"  Ingenious  dreamer !  in  whose  well-told  tale 
Sweet  fiction  and  sweet  truth  alike  prevail." 

The  publisher,  therefore^  confines  himself  to  a  simple  enumeration  of  the  mam  features  by  which 
the  present  edition  will  be  distinguished. 

This  distinction  is  threefold  : 

1st.  In  the  Purity  of  the.  Text.  It  will  be  printed  from  the  latest  editions  published  in  the 
author's  lifetime,  containing  his  last  revisions  and  alterations.  For  this  purpose  the  extremely 
rare  edition  of  the  first  part,  published  in  1683,  has  been  placed  at  the  publisher's  disposal  by  the 
diligent  researches  of  George  Otfor,  Esq.  of  Hackney,  whose  library  contains,  amongst  other  trea- 
sures, an  unrivalled  collection  of  early  editions  of  Bunyan.  Most  of  the  ordinary  ecfitions  of  this 
divine  allegory  are  very  erroneous ;  and  printed  as  they  have  been  from  one  another,  without 
reference  to  the  originals,  show  alterations  and  omissions  altogether  at  variance  with  the  Author's 
text.t 

2d.  In  the  absence  of  Notes.  With  very  few  exceptions,  all  the  recent  editions  of  the  Pilsrim 
are  encumbered  with  tedious  doctrinal  notes,  overlaying  the  text,  and  distracting  the  attention  of 
the  reader  from  the  original  narrative.  From  these  this  edition  will  be  altogether  free.  The  work 
will  be  laid  before  the  reader  as  Bunyan  left  it;  the  only  variations  will  consist  in  the  correction 
and  verification  of  the  marginal  references,  which,  from  errors  of  the  press,  are  in  the  early 
editions  frequently  inaccurate. 

3d.  In  the  Illustrations.  In  the  present  edition  these  are  greatly  more  numerous  and  of  a  higher 
class,  than  have  ever  been  given  with  the  work.  They  will  range  from  Two  Hundred  and  Fifty 
•o  Three  Hundred  in  number,  engraved  by  the  Brothers  Dalziel,  from  Drawings  by  William  Hai-- 
vey,  the  most  graceful  and  imaginative  of  modern  designers,  and  will  con.sist  of  Head  and  Tail  Pieces, 
Vignettes,  and  Border  Illustrations,  in  all  that  variety  of  pictorial  arrangement  for  which  tlii.'!  arrist 
is  so  celebrated.  A  beautifully  engraved  Portrait  of  the  Author  will  also  be  given  from  the  origi- 
nal drawing,  by  R.  White,  preserved  in  the  British  Museum  ;  from  which  was  engraved  the  like- 
ae.s3  attached  to  the  first  edition  of  the  Holy  War  (now  extremely  rare).  This  will  be  ensnived  on 
steel,  in  the  line  manner,  by  Mr.  H.  Bourne,  forming  at  onceihe'finest  and  most  authentic  Portrait 
of  Bunyan  ever  published. 

The  Work  will  be  printed  in  crown  octavo,  in  the  best  manner,  and  will  be  published  in  Monthly 
Parts,  price  25  cents  each.     Part  I.  will  appear  in  a  few  days. 

Each  Part  will  contain  Forty  pages  of  Letterpress,  and  from  Twenty-five  to  Thirty  Engravings 
on  Wood. 

The  Work  will  be  complete  in  about  Ten,  but  not  exceeding  Twelve,  Parts. 

*.'  A  few  Copies,  printed  on  Large  Paper  (price  2/.  2s.  or  $10),  with  the  finest  impressions  of 
the  Cuts  in  their  best  state.  As  these  will  be  i.^sued  only  in  a  complete  form,  pei-sons  desirous  to 
possess  them  should  at  once  forward  their  names  to  the  publisher. 

t  A  few  specimens  of  these  inaccuracies  are  given  in  a  separate  Prospcetus,  with  a  specimen  of 
the  work,  which  will  be  supplied  (gratis)  ^n  application. 

N.B — TO  THE  T^ADE. — The  first  number  will  be  forwarded  generally  as 
a  Specimen,  on  sale  ;  but  no  future  number  will  be  sent  imless  actually  ordered. 

21 


G.    P.    PUTISrAM's    NEW    PUBLICATIONS. 


Cjjnitr  3llii5trntrir  9Jnnk 


CONTINUED. 


Lays  of  the  Western  Wcn^ld. 


Contents  .•— "  I>ove's  Requiem,"  by  Charles  Fenno  Hoffman ;  "  The  Mother  of  Moses,"  by  Mrs. 
O.'frood ;  "The  Land  of  Dreams,"  by  Wm.  C.  Bryant ;  "  Lees  in  the  Cup  of  Life,"  by  Mrs.  S.  G. 
Howe;  "The  Night  Cometh,"  by  Mrs.  Embury;  "  The  Tournament  at  Acre,"  by'H.  W.  Her- 
bert; "Greenwood,"  by  Miss  Pind'ar ;  "Worship,"  by  Miss  Bayard;  "The  Child's  Mission,"  by 
Mrs.  Embury. 

Small  folio,  illuminated  in  the  most  superb  manner  by  Mapleson,  with  Borders  and  Vignettes- 
printed  in  Gold,  Silver,  and  Colors — bound  in  morocco,  in  a  massive  style — forming  the  most 
elegant  and  recherche  book  of  the  kind  ever  produced  in  this  country.    $12. 


Oriental  lAfe  Illustrated: 


Being  a  New  Edition  of  "  Eothen,"  or.  Traces  of  Travel  Brought  Home  from 
the  East.  Illustrated  with  fine  Steel  Engravings.  l2mo,  cloth,  extra 
gilt,  %\  50. 


Ilhist/rated  Grecian  and  Roman  Mythology, 

BY   M.   A.   DWIGHT, 

With  Preface  by  Prof.  Ta.yleii  Lewis,  of  the  University  of  New-York.  17 
Illustrations.  1  vol.  8vo,  cloth  extra,  half  morocco,  top  edge  gilt,  ^3  75 ; 
cloth,  gill  edges,  $3  50  ;  plain  f  3. 


Poems, 


BY    ANNE    CHARLOTTE    LYNCH. 

niustrated  by  Durand,  Huntington,  Darley,  Dugan,  Rothermel,  &,c.  &c. 
One  volume,  8vo  Elegantly  printed  on  superfine  paper,  uniform  with 
the  Illustrated  Editions  of  Willis,  Bryant,  Longfellow,  &c.  Cloth,  $1  50  ; 
gilt  extra,  ^2  ;  morocco  extra,  ^3. 


A  Booh  of  the  Hudson  ; 


Collected  fi"om  the  Various  Writings  of  Diedkich  Knickerbocker.    Edited  by 
Geoffrey  Crayon.     New  edition   in   large  type,  with   four    Illustrations, 
l8mo,  50  cents. 
The  Cheaper  Edition,  without  plates,  sm.aller  type,  37^  cents. 
*'  One  of  the  most  delightful  w""ks  in  the  language." — Boston  Transcript. 
"Summer  Tounsts  on  the  Hudson  can  find  no  pleasanter  companion  than  this." 
"A  happy  idea  this  of  bringing  to<rether  in  a  volume,   for  the  pocket,  the  scattered  tales  and 
sketches  of  the  Hudson,  which  fill  so  many  attractive  pases  in  the  different  volumes  of  Washing- 
ton Irvins.     The  man  IS  to  be  envied  who.  with  a  ^..mmer  a?/ before  him,  embarks  on  one  of 
the  floating  palaces  of  the  river with  this  choice  volume  for  his'  companion,  as  he  is  borne  along 
the  ample  breadth  of  the  Tappan  Sea,  by  the  walls  of  the  Palisades,  or  threads  the  grand  defilei 
of  the  Ilighlands      He  will  be  put  in  a  mood  for  the  most  exquisite  enjoyment  of  book  and  land- 
scape as  he  glances  from  one  to  the  other." — Lit.  World. 

22 


(^\^n  |3opular  Uoluraes  for  presents. 

ELEGANTLY    BOUND    IN    EXTRA    CLOTH,    GILT    EDGES. 

Those  marked  thus  *  are  New  Editions,  with  illuminated  title-pages. 

*  Chaucer :  Selections,  by  Deshler  -         -         - 

*  Fouque's  Undine  and  Sintrani 

*  Gilman^s  Sibyl ;  or,  New  Oracles  from  Poets 

*  GoldsmitK s  Vicar  of  Wakefield,  illustrated 

*  Hervey^s  Book  of  Christmas     -         -         - 

*  Hoivitfs  {Mary)  Songs  and  Ballads,  with  portrait  1  25. 

*  Hood^s  Prose  and  Verse   -         -         -         - 

*  Hunfs  Italian  Poets     -         -         -         - 

*  Hunfs  Imagination  and  Fancy 
Irving^s  Sketch-Book    -         -        -        - 
Irving^ s  Bracebridge  Hall        -         -         - 
Irving'' s  Tales  of  a  Traveller 
Irving^ s  Oliver  Goldsmith,  a  Biography 

*  Keats'  Poetical  Works  ... 

*  Keats''  Life  and  Letters   -         -         -         - 

*  Lam^Us  Dramatic  Poets        -        -        - 

*  LamVs  Essays  of  Elia    -----     1  50. 

*  Oriental  Life  Illustrated,  plates  -        -        -        1  50. 


Each  l2mo. 

$1 

00. 

00. 

50. 

00. 

00. 

It  I 

25. 

50. 

75. 

00. 

75. 

75. 

75. 

75. 

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50. 

50. 

Green  on  Bronchitis. 

SECOND  EDITION,  REVISED  AND   ENLARGED. 

A  Treatise  on  Diseases  of  the  Air-Passages;  Comprising  an  Inquiry  into  the 
History,  Causes,  and  Treatment  of  those  Affections  of  the  Throat,  called 
Bronchitis,  Chronic  Laryngitis,  Clergyman's  Sore  Throat,  &c.  &c. 

BY    HORACE    GREEN,    A.M.,    M.D.,    &c. 

Plates  improved  and  carefully  Colored.     Royal  8vo,  gilt  tops,  $3. 


adopted  the  mode  of  treatment  recommended  by  him,  and  can  corroborate  his  statements  as  to  its 


"  The  Author  has  made  a  most  valuable  addition  to  practical  medicine.     *     '     *    We  have 

.    ^  by  him,  and  c 

great  value." — British  and  Foreign  Medical  Review. 

"  Written  with  .=io  much  care  and  excellent  arrangement  as  to  be  quite  intelligible  to  the  unprofes- 
sional reader." — N.  Y.  Eve.  Post. 

"  Without  doubt  the  remedy  over  all  others." — N.  Y.  Eve.  Mirror. 

"Ably  written,  and  shows  a  man  thoroughly  master  of  his  profession." — N.  Y.  Observer. 

23 


G.    P.    PUTNA31S    JS^EW    PUBLICATIONS. 


Th^  Fractical  Elocutionist^ 

For  Colleges,  Academies,  and  High  Schools. 

BY  JOHN  W.  S.   HOWS, 

Professor  of  Elocution  in  Columbia  College, 

*,*  This  work  is  confidently  recommended  to  the  attention  of  the  Teaching  Public,  and  intelli- 
gent students,  for  its  thorough  practical  character. 

It  comprises  the  Authors  system  of  Elocutionary  Instruction,  which,  during  a  long  course  of 
successful  professional  practice,  has  been  most  satisfactorily  tested  and  stamped  by  public  ap- 
proval. 

A  close  analytical  dissection  of  the  sense  and  construction  of  language  is  made  the  leading  prin- 
ciple of  instruction,  rather  than  a  servile  adherence  to  elaborate  mechanical  rules.  Nature  is  at 
all  times  followed  as  the  only  sure  Teacher.  The  perceptive  and  reasoning  powers  of  the  Pupil 
are  constantly  brought  into  action,  and  the  few  essential  rules  of  the  art  are  so  simplified  and 
adapted  on  these  prmciples,  as  to  become  only  the  subordinate  auxiliaries  in  the  acquirement  of  an 
earnest,  natural,  and  unaffected  mode  of  delivery. 

A  copious  and  varied  selection  of  Examples,  from  the  best  Authors,  are  given  for  practice  in  the 
illustration  of  the  system,  the  larger  portion  of  which  have  never  before  been  incorporated  into 
any  similar  work.  They  will  be  found  of  an  uniform  high-toned  character,  and  will  furnish  to  the 
youthful  Pupil  a  vocabulary  of  thought  and  int'orraation  on  topics  of  general  importance  and  in- 
terest. 

Large  12mo.     In  August. 


Tlu  Crayon  Heading  Booh  ; 

Comprising  Selections  from  the  various  Writings  of 
WASHINGTON    IRVING. 

Prepared  for  the  use  of  Schools.   l2mo.     In  August. 

*,*  This  volume  comprises  a  series  of  scenes,  adventures,  sketches  of  character,  and  historical 
pictures  from  the  Life  of  Columbus,  Astoria,  Tour  on  the  Prairies,  Granada,  Bracebridge  Hall, 
Sketch  Book,  &c.,  arranged  so  as  to  form  an  acceptable  and  useful  reading  book  for  the  highei 
classes  in  schools  and  academies. 


The  Botanical  Text-Booh. 

BY    PROF.  A.  GRAY, 

Of  Harvard  College. 

With  1000  Engravings  on  wood.     New  edition,  l2mo,  $1   75.     [See  page  11.] 

"The  best  «:lementary  view  of  the  vegetable  kingdom." — Silliman's  JournaL 


Br  of.  B  ana's  System  of  3£ineralogy  ; 

Comprising  the  most  recent  discoveries.     New  edition,  8vo,  $3  50.     [See  p.  13.] 


A  Chemical  Text-Booh. 

BY    OLIVER  WOLCOTT   GIBBS, 

Professor  of  Cheynistry  in  the  Free  Academy,  New-  York. 

l2mo.     In  preparation. 

24 


G.    P.    PUTNAMS    NEW    PUBLICATIONS. 


CONTINUED. 

A  Mythological  Text-Booh  : 

With  original  illustrations.    Adapted  to  the  use  of  Universities  and  High  Schools), 
and  for  popular  reading. 

BY    M.   A.    DWIGHT. 

With  an  Introduction  by  Tayler  Lewis,  Professor  of  Greek  in  the  University 

of  New- York.     12ino,  half  bound  $1  50. 
Also,  a  fine  edition  in  octavo,  with  illustrations,  cloth,  $3  ;   cloth  gilt,  $3  50  ; 

half  morocco,  top  edge  gilt,  ^3  75. 

*,*  This  work  has  been  prepared  with  a:reat  care,  illustrated  with  effective  outline  drawings, 
and* is  desisrned  to  treat  the  subject  in  an  original,  comprehensive,  and  unexceptionable  manner,  so 
as  to  fill  the  place,  as  a  text-book,  which  is  yet  unsupplied ;  while  it  is  also  an  attractive  and 
readable  table  book  for  genei-al  use.  It  is  introduced  as  a  text-book  in  many  of  the  leading  colleges 
and  schools. 

''  As  a  book  of  reference  for  the  general  reader,  we  know  not  its  equal.  The  information  it  con- 
tains is  almost  as  necessary  to  the  active  reader  of  modern  literature,  as  for  the  professed  scholar." 
— Home  Journal. 

"  A  valuable  addition  to  our  elementary  school  books,  being  written  in  good  taste  and  with  ability, 
and  well  adapted  to  popular  instruction.— Pro/".  Webster.,  Principal  of  the  Free  Acailemy,  N.  Y 


Qo^s  Drawing  Cards. 

Studies  in  Drawing,  in  a  Progressive  Series  of  Lessons  on  Cards  ;  beginning 
with  the  most  Elementary  Studies,  and  adapted  for  use  at  Home  and  in 
Schools. 

BY    BENJAMIN    H.  COE, 

Teacher  of  Drawing. 

In  ten  Series — marKcd  1  to  10 — each  containing   about   eighteen  Studies. 
25  cents  each  Series. 

The  design  is : 
I.  To  make  the  exercise  in  drawing  highly  interesting  to  the  pupil. 

II.  To  make  drawings  so  simple,  and  so  gradually  progressive,  as  to  enable  any  teacher,  whether 
acquainted  with  drawing  or  not,  to  instruct  his  pupils  to  advantage. 

III.  To  take  the  place  of  one  half  of  the  writing  lessons,  with  confidence  that  the  learner  will 

acquire  a  knowledge  of  writing  in  less  time  than  is  usually  required. 

IV.  To  give  the  pupils  a  bold,  rapid,  and  artist-like  style  of  drawing. 

They  are  executed  with  taste  and  skill,  and  form,  in  our  judgment,  one  of  the  best  series  of  les- 
sons in  drawing,  which  we  have  met  with.  The  author  justly  remarks,  that  "  the  whole  is  so  sim- 
plified as  to  enable  any  teacher,  without  previous  study,  to  instruct  his  pupils  with  advantage." 


%  I,  a,  jKilitarii  (Knt-lDnnlt. 

An  Elementary  Treatise  on  Artillery  and  Infantry.^ 

Adapted  for  the  Service  of  the  United  States.  Designed  for  the  use  of  Cadets 
of  the  U.  S.  Military  Academy,  and  for  the  Officers  of  the  Independent 
Companies  and  Volunteers.     l2mo. 

BY  C.  P.  KINGSBURY,  LIEUT.  U.  S.  A. 

*,'  This  volume  is  used  as  a  text-bool^  in,  the  United  State."?  Military  Academy,  and  will  be  intro- 
duced in  the  other  military  schools.  It  is  the  most  useful  and  comprehensive  treatise  in  eithec 
French  or  English  ;  and  is  equally  adapted, for  use  in  the  militia  service  and  in  the  army. 

25 


G.  P.  put]n^am's  new  publications. 


Slngln-laxon. 


Anglo-Saxon  Cov/rse  of  Study, 

A  Compemlious  Anglo-Saxon  and  English  Dictionary. 

By  the  Rev.  Joseph  Bosworth,  D.D.,  F.R.S.,  &c.,  &c.  1  vol.,  8vo, 
cloth,  $3. 

A  Grammar  of  tlie  Anglo-Saxon  Language. 

By  Louis  F.  Klipstein,  A.M.,  LL.M.,  and  Ph.  D.,  of  the  University  of 
Giessen.     l2mo,  cloth,  $1  25. 

Tha  Halgan  Godspel  on  Englisc. 

The  Anglo-Saxon  Version  of  the  Holy  Gospels.  Edited  by  Benjamin 
Thorpe,  F.S.A.     Reprinted  by  the  same.    l2mo,  cloth,  $1  25. 

Andkcta  Anglo- Saxonica., 

With  an  Introductory  Ethnological  Essay,  and  Notes,  Critical  and  Ex- 
planatory. By  Louis  F.  Klipstein,  A.M.,  LL.M.,  and  Ph.  D.,  of  the 
University  of   Giessen.      2  vols.,  1200  pages,  $3  50. 

Natale  Sancti  G^-egorii  PapcB. 

iElfric's  Homily  on  the  Birthday  of  St.  Gregory,  and  Collateral  Ex- 
tracts from  King  Alfred's  Version  of  Bede's  Ecclesiastical  History 
and  the  Saxon  Chronicle,  with  a  full  Rendering  into  English,  Notes 
Critical  and  Explanatory,  and  an  Index  of  Stems  and  Forms.  By 
Louis  F.  Klipstein,  A.M.,  LL.M.,  and  Ph.  D.,  of  the  University  of 
Giessen.     12mo,  75  cts. 

A  Glossary  to  the  AnaUcta  Anglo-Saxonica^ 

With  the  Indo-Gennanic  and  other  Affinities  of  the  Language.  By 
Louis  F.  Klipstein,  A.M.,  LL.M.,  and  Ph.  D.,  of  the  University  of 
Giessen      In  preparation. 

"  There  is  no  doubt  that  a  few  years  hence,  the  persevering  and  ill-rewarded  toils  of  this  learned 
scholar  will  be  looked  back  upon  with  sincere  gratitude,  by  all  who  love  the  study  of  our  incom- 

E arable  language,  in  its  better  and  more  sinewy  part.  If  Dr.  K.  is,  as  we  suppose,  a  foreisner.  he 
as  acquired  a  mastery  of  English  which  is  marvellous,  and  which,  by  the  by,  shows  the  advantage 
to  be  derived  from  Anglo-Saxon.  These  volumes,  taken  in  connection  with  the  grammar,  and  the 
forthcoming  glossary,  will  make  it  ea.=y  for  any  private  student  to  make  himself  acquainted  with 
that  delightful  old  tongue,  to  which  we  owe  almost  all  our  words  of  endearment,  such  as  hcmie, 
father,  mother,  brother,  sister ;  almost  all  our  names  of  English  flowers,  as  daisy,  cowslip,  prim- 
rose, nosegay  ;  and  abundance  of  the  short,  monosyllabic,  piingent  nouns,  which  half  learned  folks 
would  barter  away  for  sesquipedalian  latinisms.  We  mean  such  as  dell,  dale,  wrath,  wealth, 
knave,  thrust,  churl,  wreath,  and  soul.  The  preliminary  essay  prepares  the  way,  by  tracing  very 
clearly  the  lineage  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  language:  it  is  a  valuable  contribution  to  Ethnology." — 
Presbyterian. 

"  Surely  it  is  a  matter  of  concern  to  know  and  understand  well  our  own  tongue.  How  much 
better  then  would  it  be,  if  in  our  public  and  private  schools,  as  much  attention  at  lea-st  were  given 
to  the  teachings  of  English  as  of  Greek  and  Latin,  that  our  youths  might  bring  home  with  them  a 
racy  idiomatic  way  of'speaking  and  writing  their  own  language,  instead  of  a  smattering  of  Greek 
And  Latin,  which  they  almost  forget  and  generally  neglect  in  a  few  years'  time.  '  *  *  For  this, 
a  study  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  is  absolutely  needful ;  for  after  all,  it  has  bequeathed  to  us  by  far  the 
largest  stock  of  words  in  our  language." — Loudon. 

"The  most  valuable  portion  of  our  language  comes  to  us  directly  through  the  Anglo-Saxon  ;  and 
to  make  the  study  of  it  a  part  of  our  generafsysiem  of  education,  would  be  to  administer  the  most 
powerful  antidote  to  the  deteriorating  influence  of  would-be  fine  speakers  and  writers,  which  is 
gradually  robbing  our  English  speechTof  much  of  its  native  energy  and  precisioa."-itY.  World. 

26 


G.    P.    PUTNA^l's    NEW   PUBLICATIONS. 


miu  %ti\m. 


Chaueer's  Poems. 


Selections  from  the  Poetical  Works  of  Geoffrey  Chaucer.     By  Charles  D. 
Deshler.     1  vol.,  l2mo,  green  cloth,  63  cts. 


Chancer  and  Spenser. 


Selections  from  the  Poetical  Works  of  Geoffrey  Chaucer.  By  Charles  D. 
Deshler.  Spenser,  and  the  Faery  Queen.  By  Mrs.  C.  M.  Kirkland 
1  vol.,  l2mo,  cloth,  %\  25. 

"  A  mine  of  wealth  and  enjoyment,  a  golden  treasury  of  exquisite  models,  of  graceful  fancies,  of 
fine  inventions,  and  of  beautiful  diction." — Cincinnati  Herald. 


£^ouque. —  TIndine  and  Sint/ram. 


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man of  La  Motte  Fouque.     1  vol.,  12mo,  green  cloth,  50  cts. 

"  Undine  is  an  exquisite  creation  of  the  imagmation,  and  xmiversally  regarded  as  a  masterpiece 
in  this  department  of  literature." — Richmond  Times. 


Gilman^  Mrs. — The  Sibyl ; 

Or,  New  Oracles  from  the  Poets ;    a  Fancifiil  Diversion  for  the  Drawing- 
Room.     1  vol.,  l2mo,  cloth,  extra  gilt,  ^1  50. 

"  A  sweet  book  of  short  and  most  pleasant  quotations  from  the  poets,  illustrative  of  character 
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designed,  beautifully  executed,  and  beautifully  robed  for  the  gift-dispensing  Christmas  and  New- 
Year  Yi\i\A\c."— Evangelist. 


Goldsmith. — The  Vicar  of  WaJceJield. 

By  Oliver  Goldsmith.     1  vol.,  l2mo,  neatly  printed,  cloth,  50  cts. 


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edges,  $1. 

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Hervey. — The  J5ooh  of  Christmas  : 

Descriptive  of  the  Customs,  Ceremonies,  Traditions,  Superstitions,  Fun,  Feel- 
ing, and  Festivities  of  the  Christmas  Season.  By  Thomas  K.  Hervey. 
12mo,  green  cloth,  63  cts. 

The  same,  gilt  extra,  ^L 

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27 


G.  P.  Putnam's  new  publications. 


CONTINUED. 

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were  written  from  the  heart,  wliich  reflect  most  faithfully  his  life  and  opimons." — Brondway 
Journal. 


Hoivitt. — Ballads  and  other  Poems, 

By  Mary  Howitt.     1  vol.,  l2mo,  green  cloth,  75cts. 
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"  Her  poems  are  always  graceful  and  beautiful. — Mrs.  S.  C.  Hall. 

"  We  cannot  commend  too  highly  the  present  publication,  and  only  hope  that  the  reading  public 
will  relish  '  Mary  Howiit's  Balladsand  other  Poems,'  now  for  the  first  time  put  forth  in  a  collected 
form." — Albion.  .^ 


I 


Hunt. — Imagination  and  Fancy  ; 


Or,   Selections  from  the  English  Poets,  illustrative  of  those   first  requisites 

of  their   Art ;    with  markings    of    the  best    Passages,  Critical    Notices 

of  the    best  writers,  &c.     By  Leigh  Hunt.     1  vol.,  l2mo,  green  cloth, 
62  cts. 

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Westminsler  Revieic. 

"  This  volume  is  most  justly  to  be  called  a  feast  of  nectared  sweets  where  no  crude  surfeit  reigns." 
London  Examiner. 


Hunt. — Stories  from  the  Italian  Poets : 

Being  a  Summary  in  Prose  of  the  Poems  of  Dante,  Pulci,  Boiardo,  Ariosto, 
and  Tasso  ;  with  Comments  throughout,  occasional  passages  Versified,  and 
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tures  painted  by  these  great  Italian  masters." — Tournal  of  Commerte. 


G.  P.  Putnam's  new  publications. 


%ii[tS    IlttWS. 

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From  the  Beginning  of  the  World  to  the  End  of  the  Dutch  Dynasty. 

12mo,  cloth,  $1  25. 

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l2mo,  cloth,  $1  25. 

Oliver  Goldsmith :  a  Biography. 

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,*  See  "  History,"  "  Travels,"  «fec 
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"They  are  flushed  all  over  with  the  rich  lights  of  fancy ;  and  so  colored  and  bestrewn  with  the 
flowers  of  poetry,  that,  even  while  perplexed  and  bewi''\ered  in  their  labyrinths,  it  is  impossible 
to  resist  the  intoxication  of  their  sweetness,  or  to  shut  our  hearts  to  the  enchantment  ihey  so 
lavishly  present. — Francis  Jeffrey. 


Keats. — Life.,  Letters.,  &c. 

The  Life,  Letters,  and  Literary  Remains  of  John  Keats.     Edited  by  Richard 
MoNCTON  MiLNES.     Portrait  and  fac-simile.     1  vol.,  12mo,  cloth,  $1  25. 

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replete  with  interest." 

29 


G.    P. 


CONTINUED. 


^joivell. — A  Fahle  for  Critics  : 


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Magazine. 

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nind  of  a  philosopher,  and  the  wit  of  a  satirist,  without  the  gall  which  too  often  accompanies  it." — 
ffolde?i's  Mag. 

"  Nothing  abler  has  ever  come  from  the  American  press  in  the  form  of  satire." — Prov.  Jour. 


Lamh. — Essays  of  Elia. 

^y  Charles  Lamb.     1  vol.,  12mo,  cloth,  $1. 
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Lamh, — Specimens  of  the  EiiglisTi  Dramatic  Poets. 

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LyncJi. — Poems^  &g. 


By  Anne  C.  Lynch.  1  vol.  Elegantly  illustrated  from  designs  by  Durand, 
Huntington,  Darley,  Rossiter,  Brown,  Dugan,  &c.  8vo,  cloth,  ^1  50  ; 
gilt  extra,  $2. 

"  The  many  beautiful  and  sublime  thoughts  that  are  scattered  through  this  volume  will  amply 
repay  a  perusal. — Albany  Eve.  Jour 


Montagues  Selections  from  Old  English  Writei^s, 

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Brown,  Fuller,  and  Bacon  By  Basil  Montagu.  1  vol.,  12mo,  green 
cloth,  50  cents  ;  cloth  gilt,  $1. 

"This  volume  contains  choice  extracts  from  some  of  the  noblest  of  the  old  English  writers."— 
Cincinnati  Atlas. 
"  A  book  of  delight.    It  is  for  the  head,  the  heart,  the  imagination,  and  the  taste,  all  at  once." 

30 


G.    P.    PUTNAM  S    NEW    PUBLICATIONS. 


%tiin  Xtltxm. 

CONTINUED. 

Peacock, — Headlong  Hall  and  Nightmare  Abhey. 

1  vol.,  l2mo,  green  cloth,  50  cts. 

"  Works  of  singular  merit,  but  of  a  character  so  peculiar  that  we  cannot  give  any  descriptive 
account  of  them  in  the  space  at  our  command.  Wide  sweeping,  vigorous  satire  is  their  charac- 
teristic ;  satire  not  so  much  of  men  as  of  opinions.  *  *  *  The  production  of  a  mind  contem- 
plative in  Its  turn,  but  keenly  alive  to  the  absurdity  of  human  pretension.  There  is  scarcely  a 
topic  which  is  not  here  embodied  or  glanced  at ;  and  modern  philosophy  is  pretty  severely  hit,  aa 
may  be  inferred  from  the  motto  of  Headlong  Hall : 

'  All  philosophers,  who  find 
Some  favorite  system  to  their  mind. 
In  every  point  to  make  it  fit. 
Will  force  all  nature  to  submit.'  " 

Cincinnati  Atlas. 


Tasso. — Godfrey  of  BuUoigne  ; 

Or,  the  Recovery  of  Jerusalem  :   done   into   English  Historical   Verse,  from 
the  Italian  of  Tasso,  by  Edward  Fairfax.     Introductory  Essay,  by  Leigh 
Hunt  ;  and  the   Lives  of  Tasso  and  Fairfax,  by  Charles  Knight.     1  vol., 
12mo,  $1  25. 
"  The  completest  translation,  and  nearest  like  its  original  of  any  we  have  seen." — Leigh  Hunt. 
"  The  Jerusalem  Delivered  is  full,  to  the  last  stanza,  of  the  most  delightful  inventions,  of  the 
most  charming  pictures,  of  chivalric  and  heroic  sentiment,  of  portraits  of  brave  men  and  beautiful 
women — in  fine,  a  prodigal  mine  of  the  choice.si  resources  and  effects  of  poetry.     So  it  has  been 
always  known  to  the  world,  so  Fairfax  brings  it  to  us." — Mirror. 


Taylor. — Poems  and  Ballads, 

The  Poems  and  Ballads  of  J.  Bayard  Taylor.      With   Portrait  painted 
by  T.  Buchanan  Read,  Esq.      12mo,  cloth,   75  cents  ;    cloth  gilt  extra, 
$1  25. 
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contrasts  pleasantly  with  the  more  purely  sentimental  poems." 


Walton, — Tlie  Lives  of  Donne^  Walton^  Hooker,, 

Herbert,  and  Sanderson.     By  Izaak  Walton.     New  edition.     1  vol.,  12mo, 
green  cloth,  $1. 

"  The  Lives  are  the  most  delightful  kind  of  reading.    Walton  possesses  an  inimitable  simplicity 
and  vivacity  of  style.— ilirs.  KirkLand. 


BibliotTieca  Americana, 

A  Catalogue  of  American  Publications,  including  Reprints  and  Original  Works, 
from  1820  to  1848,  inclusive.     Compiled  by  O.  A.  Roorbach.     Royal  8vo, 
pp.  359,  $4. 
•,•  A  very  useful  book  to  all  librarians  and  booksellers. 

31 


G.  P.  putj^am's  InEW  puelications. 


TTie  Nw'sery  Book  for  Young  Mothers, 

BY    MRS.    L.   C.  TUTHILL. 

18mo,  50  cents. 

*,*  This  volume  will  be  a  welcome  present  to  young  mothers.  It  comprises  familiar  letters  on 
all  topics  connected  with  the  medical  and  educational  departments  of  the  Nursery,  and  is  just 
Buch  a  book  as  every  mother  will  find  practically  useful ;  and  all  the  more  so  as  it  is  written  by  a 
competent  and  experienced  person  of  their  own  sex. 

''There  is  much  excellent  counsel  in  this  volume,  with  occasional  toucnes  of  nature,  which 
shows  that  the  author  is  observant,  and  has  accustomed  herself  to  note  the  errors  of  physical  and 
domestic  education.  Lideed  there  are  some  happy  hits  at  the  mistakes  of  this  .sort  which  are  as 
common  as  children,  and  graver  admonitions  that  'young  mothers,'  and  some  assuming  to  have 
more  experience,  might  greatly  profit  by." — N.  Y.  Com.  Adv. 

"The  title  of  this  neat  little  volume  would  not  at  first  seem  to  indicate  any  thing  new  or  pecu- 
liarly interesting,  but  at  the  veiy  first  page  the  attention  is  arrested,  and  from  thence  to  the  very- 
last  note  in  the  Appendix  the  interest  does  not  flag.  It  is  no  dry  disquisition  upon  diet  and  medi- 
cines, but  has  for  its  topic  nursery  education  in  every  branch.  The  instruction  on  these  various 
points  is  communicated  in  sprightly  letters  from  an  aunt  to  her  niece,  who,  desponding  like  all 
young  mrthers  when  first  left  to  the  care  of  their  infants,  applies  to  her  for  a.ssistance.  The  niece, 
Mrs.  Haston,  is  extremely  well  drawn.  From  the  moment  that  she  first  attempts  the  child's  bath, 
and  sits  'shivering  and  trembling,  afraid  to  touch  the  droll  little  object,'  to  her  anxious  inquiries 
with  regard  to  the'mental  and  moral  training  of  her  children,  she  is  a  true  woman,  and  a  true  mo- 
ther. The  circumstances  which  call  forth  the  various  points  of  instruction  from  her  aunt  are 
most  naturally  developed,  and,  on  the  whole,  we  regard  it  as  the  best  book  of  the  kind  ever  pub- 
lished. Its  peculiar  excellence  is  the  sprightly  and  ligreeable  style  which  we  have  before  alluded 
to,  and  which  would  arrest  the  attention  of  many  a  gifldy  '  girl-mother,'  who  would  throw  aside  a 
diy  treatise  in  despair.  Mrs.  Tuthill  quotes  the  most  miexceptioiiable  authorities  for  her  nursery 
rules  for  health."— PAiVo.  Sat.  Gazette. 


(Clinto  %mh  fnr  ^nang  ^himm  ml  Irjinnl  iCikarits. 

MRS.    L.    C.    TUTH  I  L  L. 

Success  in  Life :  The  Merchant : 

A  Biography  ;  with  Anecdotes  and  Practical  Application  for  New  Beginners. 
12mo.     In  August. 

"  We  fare  on  earth  as  other  men  have  fared ; 
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A  Biographical  Example.     l8mo.     In  September. 
[To  be  followed  by  "  The  Artist,"  "  The  Lawyer,"   &c.] 

*,*  The  aim  of  this  Series  is  to  develop  the  talent  and  energy  of  boys  just  merging  into  man- 
hood, and  to  assist  them  in  choosing  their  pursuits  for  life. 

"  Success !  How  the  heart  bounds  at  the  exulting  word  1  Success !  Man's  aim  from  the  mo- 
ment he  places  his  tiny  foot  upon  the  floor  till  he  lays  his  weary  gray  head  in  the  grave.  Suc- 
cess, the  exciting  motive  to  all  endeavor  and  its  crowning  glory." — Extract  from  Preface. 


Evenings  loith  the  Old  Story  Tellers. 

One  volume,  l2mo,  green  cloth,  50  cents. 

•'  A  quiet  humor,  a  quaintness  and  terseness  of  style  will  strongly  recommend  ihtxn." —Engliah 
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32 


G.  P.  Putnam's  new  publications. 


CONTINUED. 

Glimpses  of  the  Wonderful. 

An  entertaining  account  of  Curiosities  of  Nature  and  Art.  First,  Second,  and 
Third  Series,  with  numerous  Fine  Illustrations,  engraved  in  London 
Square  iGmo    eloth,  each,  75  cents. 


MISS    SEDGEWICK. 


The  Morals  of  Marnier s ; 


Or,  Hints  for  our  Young  People.     New  Edition.     Square  l6mo,  with  cuts, 
cloth,  25  cents. 


Facts  and  Fancies^ 


For  School-Day  Reading;  a  Sequel  to  "  Morals  of  Manners."     Square  16mo, 
with  cuts,  50  cents. 

*,*  These  excellent  little  books,  prepared  with  reference  to  the  important  but  too  much  neglected 
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brary in  the  land— and  should  be  put  in  the  hands  of  every  child  old  enough  to  understand  that 
good  manners  are,  and  should  be,  quite  as  essential  as  progress  in  book-learning.  The  School 
Committee  of  New- York,  have  ordered  them  for  all  the  City  School  libraries.  A  cheaper  edition 
of  the  Morals  of  Manners  can  be  supplied  for  $12  50  per  100. 


The  Home  Treasury  ; 


Comprising  new  versions  of  Cinderella,  Beauty  and  the  Beast,  Grumble  and 
Cheery,  The  Eagle's  Verdict,  The  Sleeping  Beauty.  Revised  and  lUiia- 
trated.     Small  4to,  50  cents. 


Young  Naturalises  Ramhles  throttgh  Many  Lands ; 

With  an  Account  of  the  Principal  Animals  and  Birds  of  the  Old  and  New 
Continents.     With  Woodcuts.     Cloth,  50  cents. 


The  Game  of  Natural  History, 


A  Series  of  Cards,  Carefully  Drawn  and  Colored,  representing  the  most 
Important  and  Interesting  of  the  Animal  Creation.  With  Questions. 
Arranged  so  as  to  form  a  Pleasant  and  Interesting  Entertainment  for  a 
Juvenile  Party,  while  it  also  gives  Desirable  Information.  Price  50  cents, 
in  a  Case. 

33 


G.  P.  Putnam's  new  publications. 


lonbDii  5600b. 


Imported  in  quantities^  mid  supplied  to  tJie  Trade :  some  of  them  at 
much  less,  tJuui  tlie  London  prices. 

ATLASES. 

BLACK'S  GENERAL  ATLAS.— Comprehending  Gl  Maps  from  the  latest  and  most  authentic 
sources,  engraved  on  steel,  with  geographical  descriptions,  index,  &c.  Folio,  half  morocco. 
$13  50. 

JOHNSTONS  NATIONAL  ATLAS  OF  HISTORICAL,  COMMERCIAL,  AND  POLITI- 
CAL GEOGRAPHY — constructed  from  the  most  authentic  sources.  By  A.  K.  Johnston. 
Accompanied  by  maps  and  illu.strations  of  the  Physical  Geography  of  the  Globe,  by  Dr.  H. 
Berghaus,  and  an  Ethnographic  Map  of  Europe,  by  G.  Kombst.  With  copious  Index. 
Folio,  half  morocco,  gilt  edges,  S40. 

The  same— cheaper  edition,  without  Physical  Geography,  &c.,  $20. 

JOHNSTON'S  PHYSICAL  ATLAS.— A  series  of  Maps  and  Illustrations,  exhibiting  the  Geo- 
graphical Distribution  of  Natural  Phenomena.  By  Alexander  K.  Johnston.  Based  on  the 
Physikalischen  Atlas  of  Prof  Berghau.s,  with  the  co-operaiion  in  the  several  departments  of 
Professors  J.  D.  Forbes,  E.  Forbes  and  J.  J.  P.  Nichol,  Dr.  Ami  Boue,  G.  R.  Waterhouse, 
J.  S.  Russell,  and  Dr.  G.  Kombst.     Folio,  half  morocco,  $oO. 

ARTIZAN  CLUB— TREATISE  ON  THE  STEAM  ENGINE,  in  its  application  to  Mines, 
INIills,  Steam  Navigation,  and  Railways.  By  the  Artizan  Club,  edited  by  J.  Bourne.  Llus- 
trated  by  33  Plates  and  349  Engravings  on  Wood.     4to,  cloth,  $8. 

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